


The King's Harem

by KayleighH2203



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, F/M, Harems, Kissing, Like majorly slow burn, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Thranduil, Slow Burn, Spanking, Swimming, Thranduil has a harem, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism, bisexual elves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2019-11-24 20:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 89,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18169565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleighH2203/pseuds/KayleighH2203
Summary: Two decades after the Battle of the Five Armies, Bard is finally able to repay Thranduil with a kingly gift; a new addition to the Elven-King's harem. Dalla arrives in the Woodland Realm, unsure of what her future holds save that it centers around the Elven-King.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to DeputyMom62 for her help with beta-ing this story :)

Dalla sank onto the bed and looked around the chamber. It was markedly different from her old rooms back in Dale with it’s roughly-hewn dark wooden furniture and simple but functional fabrics. Here, nothing was simple. Here everything was elaborately carved from the very stones of the mountain, filled with white light from the lamps hung from the ceiling, like star light. The furniture within the chamber too was extravagant, all carved from silver birch with elaborate patterns etched in it. The fabrics were rich velvets and luxurious silks. She had never seen so many pillows on a bed in her life, cushions softened every chair, even the floor by the fireplace with a thick fur rug before it. The canopy of her four-poster bed was embroidered with the constellations as they would have appeared if she was laying on the mountain side. It was far more opulent than she had ever dreamed. Then again, she realised, she shouldn’t have expected anything less, least not for King Thranduil’s harem.

 

It had been six months previously that King Bard had put forth the suggestion that he should send a concubine to the Elven-King, a new addition for his harem. A Kingly gift as thanks for the Woodland Realm’s assistance following the attack on Laketown by Smaug and the subsequent Battle of the Five Armies. It had taken twenty years for Dale to grow and prosper enough for Bard to feel he could finally repay him. Bard had looked amongst the daughters of men in his Court for volunteers, and Dalla had offered herself. Her parents had both passed the previous winter, and her resources were dwindling. She had no prospective suitors and no way of supporting herself once the money ran out. Many of the other women had suitors lined up, or were already wed with children. Dalla was the only remaining virgin amongst them. Bard felt that her innocence would make her a more than worthy gift to the great Elven-King. He had gifted her with more fine clothes and Dwarf-made jewelry than she knew what to do with, packed her up and sent her off to live out the rest of her days in  the Woodland Realm, in comfort.

 

The journey had been long and hard, with Dalla arriving at the gate to the King’s Halls just before dawn. She had been promptly escorted in by a troop of female guards. Though there had been little life about the Hall’s so early in the morning, she had noted that every male Elf giving the group a wide berth as they travelled. Any who ventured too close were swiftly warned to stay away with shields raised to hide Dalla from view. King Thranduil, it seemed, was very protective of his females. The guards had whisked her away through the Hall’s, through twisting and turning passageways and tunnels until they had arrived at a solid wall of white stone, a set of carven doors in the centre. One of the guards had knocked in a pattern and the doors had opened. Inside, waiting for Dalla, was a Sindar Elf named Gwend. She had introduced herself as Chief Courtesan and told Dalla that if she required anything, to speak with her. Her sweet smile and gentle voice was welcome comfort after the arduous journey from Dale. After introducing Dalla to her new personal maid, a shy Silvan elleth named Anira, Dalla was instructed to bathe and rest.

 

Dalla was uncomfortable at first; not since she had been a small child had another bathed her. Anira seemed unfazed as she stripped every scrap of clothing from Dalla’s body before helping her into a large sunken tub in the private bathroom adjoining what would now be Dalla’s bed chamber. The hot water had felt blissful after a long journey but she couldn’t relax fully, not with Anira present. Anira had busied herself with scrubbing Dalla’s body clean before moving on to her hair, washing it, anointing it with gently fragranced oils and combing it thoroughly. She had then aided Dalla out the tub and helped dry her off before dressing her in a light dress suitable for a daytime nap. She had bowed low and asked quietly if there was anything else Dalla required. Dalla had replied no and the Silvan elleth had left. 

 

So now Dalla sat upon her new bed, in her home, wondering what she had got herself into. She lay down and rolled onto her back and gazed up at the embroidered canopy. For a moment, it felt like she was lying on one of the foothills of Erebor, gazing up at the nighttime sky, watching as the stars emerged one by one from the darkness. Yet, she was so very far away from home. Far away from her friends, the people she had grown up with. Now, she was to become the sexual plaything of an Elf whose age was in the millenia and whom she knew nothing about. She wondered briefly if she should unpack, and then dismissed the idea as presumptuous. King Thranduil may yet take one look at her and send her back to Dale. The bed felt wonderfully soft beneath her and she found her eyes drifting shut. Before long, she had drifted off to sleep.

  
  


She was rudely awoken later by Anira pulling on her arm.   
“You must stand for the King,” Anira hissed, giving her arm another tug. Dalla scrambled from the bed and to her feet. She barely had time to ensure her dress wasn’t bunched up anywhere  before the door opened and in strode the Elven-King. Dalla swallowed nervously. He seemed impossibly tall, his hair was like a platinum waterfall cascading down over his broad shoulders. His simple crown of twisted branches and winter berries appeared to add another several inches to his height. He came to a stop just a foot from where Dalla stood. His long, lean body was relaxed and yet gave off a predatory look, like a wild animal ready to pounce on its intended victim. His ice blue eyes peered down at her and she felt herself flush red under his scrutiny as heat rushed through her veins.   
“You may leave,” he said firmly. Out the corner of her eye, Dalla saw Anira bow her head and leave quickly, closing the door behind her.

 

Once she was gone, he began to circle her.   
“What is your name?” he asked.   
“Dalla, Your Majesty,” she replied, looking at her feet.   
“Dalla,” he repeated, “My, my, Dalla, you do look a treat.” He came to a stop behind her and stepped closer. Dalla’s breath caught in her throat, her mouth suddenly dry. One hand gathered up her auburn hair and moved it aside to expose the back of her neck. He leaned in and she felt the tip of his nose just grazing her hair. He inhaled gently and let out a low, rumbling noise of approval.   
“Yes,” he said, releasing her hair, “I think you will do very nicely. A welcome addition.” His hands touched her shoulders before skimming down over her arms until he reached her hips. His fingers traced around to her back and began to tug on the lacing of her dress. Dalla’s heart thudded in her chest as he loosened the dress and pulled on it. It slipped from her shoulders, down her arms and body before dropping from her hips to pool at her feet, leaving her clad in only her slip of an underdress. Her breathing quickened as his fingertips danced back up her arms to the thin straps, grasping them and pulling them down so her slip joined her dress around her ankles. 

 

Instinctively, she moved her arms in a bid to cover herself up but he firmly pulled them back into place. He moved again, this time to stand in front of her. Her skin prickled like gooseflesh at the sudden chill as his eyes raked over her hungrily.   
“Yes, yes, very nicely indeed,” he whispered, one hand going to her waist and tugging her closer. She almost tripped and caught herself with her hands on his chest. A smirk crossed his face as he encircled her in his warm arms.   
“I am going to enjoy you,” he said in a low voice as his hands ran up and down her naked back, “I believe I will enjoy you very much.” Dalla squirmed, an ache building inside her that she did not recognise or know what to do with. The King’s head dropped down, almost coming into line with her own, the tips of their noses just touching. She saw his lips part and couldn’t help but mimic the movement with her own as one of his thighs pressed it’s way between her legs. She let out a little gasp as a jolt ran through her entire body at the contact, and he grinned again, leaning in almost imperceptibly closer til their mouths were almost touching.   
“A very welcome addition,” he mused before pulling back suddenly, leaving her cold again. Before she could gather her wits or senses to say anything else, he was gone.


	2. Chapter Two

Following the King’s abrupt departure, Anira returned, immediately busying herself with redressing Dalla and pinning up her hair as Dalla directed. Dalla liked to emulate Princess Sigrid, the elder daughter of King Bard, with her hair, and wore it in twisted braids gathered into a knot at the nape of her neck. Once redressed, Anira spoke quietly.   
“Lady Gwend requests your permission to enter your rooms, my lady,” she said, “To ensure you are settling in.”   
“Umm, yes, of course,” Dalla replied, a little surprised that the Chief Courtesan would need her permission. Anira curtseyed and hurried to the door to allow Gwend in. The Sindar elleth moved with a grace that made Dalla a little envious, as if she floated through the air towards her. Her sweet smile made Dalla feel at ease, in total contrast to the King’s presence which left her uncomfortable and confused.   
“I trust you are well-rested,” she said, her hands clasped just beneath her bosom.   
“Yes, thank you, my lady,” Dalla said, bowing her head slightly.   
“You need not display such deference,” Gwend said, “I am Chief Courtesan in title only because I have served King Thranduil the longest. We are all sisters here, Dalla, and we are all equal.”   
“Oh, is that why you asked for permission before entering?” Dalla asked as Gwend approached the three trunks that lay on the far side of the room.   
“It is the most important rule within this harem,” Gwend replied as she ran one hand along the surface of a trunk, “That our rooms are our havens, our own space. And we do not enter each others without an express invitation. The only one not bound by this rule is the King. He may come and go as he pleases.” Dalla shifted, uncomfortable at the thought of the King coming into her room without her knowledge.   
“Do not be concerned,” Gwend said, noticing her discomfort, “More often than not, he will tell you if he plans to visit. Now then, shall we see about unpacking?”   
“Would the maids not…”   
“I have found that ladies settle better when they put their own belongings away,” Gwend explained, “It helps everything feel more like home. With your permission, I would like to invite two more ladies to help. Would you care to meet some of your new sisters?”   
“Oh, yes,” Dalla said, nodding, “Yes, I would.” She hoped that by meeting more of the harem she would learn more about what her life was to become, and the King.

 

Gwend signalled to Anira who opened the door again and allowed in two more ladies. The first was a tall Silvan elleth with dark chestnut hair whose dress more resembled hunting garb than a gown, just behind her was another Silvan elleth, shorter, with long red hair and the brightest green eyes Dalla had ever seen.   
“Dalla, allow me to introduce Inariel and Finnel,” Gwend said, gesturing to the two newcomers, “Ladies, this is Dalla of Dale, our new sister.”   
“Oh, welcome Dalla,” Finnel said, hurrying forwards and clasping one of Dalla’s hands between her own, “It is wonderful to meet you. Is she not beautiful, Inariel?” Dalla blushed at Finnel’s compliment and the way Inariel looked her up and down. It was almost predatory, much like the King’s gaze.   
“Very,” the elleth replied, a small smile gracing her lips.   
“Come now, ladies,” Gwend said, turning to one of the trunks and opening it, “We must help Dalla unpack. Anira, you may wait outside until we call for you.” Anira bowed her head and left again.

 

Inariel and Finnel turned their attentions to the other two trunks that had accompanied Dalla on her journey. The two that Inariel and Finnel had opened contained the fine silks, jewels and furs given to her by King Bard. Gwend’s trunk contained her personal belongings.   
“So tell us, Dalla, how did you come to join the harem?” Inariel asked as she began pulling clothes from the trunk.   
“Oh, um, Bard, he wanted to give a gift worthy of your King,” Dalla said softly, unsure of where to start with unpacking, “To thank him for his aid in the Battle of the Five Armies. He looked to the ladies within his court and I volunteered myself.”   
“Had you no sweetheart at home?” Finnel asked as she took the clothes from Inariel, “No man wanting you for his wife? No lover?”   
“No man, no lover,” Dalla said, “After my parents died, I was alone and my resources dwindling.”   
“You made a good choice,” Gwend said as she removed a couple of books from the trunk before her, “King Thranduil is very kind, and he takes good care of us all.”   
“It seemed a fair trade,” Dalla admitted as she moved to stand by Gwend, “The King’s protection and hospitality in exchange for allowing him to take his pleasure.” At this, Gwend raised an eyebrow.   
“In what way?” she asked.   
“Well, I know that for a male to enjoy himself, a female need only be present,” Dalla replied, flushing red under the elleth’s scrutiny.   
“And just lay there? Who have you been talking to?” Gwend seemed incredulous.   
“Ladies of the court,” Dalla mumbled embarrassed, “And I have read…”   
“From these?” Gwend asked, gesturing to the books in her hand before opening one. She read for a moment before shaking her head.   
“No, no, no, this will not do,” she said, “Finnel, my dear, could you find some more suitable literature for Dalla please? Something more ribald?”   
“Of course,” Finnel said, placing the dress she was holding back in the trunk and leaving.

 

Dalla looked between the two remaining elleths, her stomach flip-flopping in anxiety.   
“Am I wrong?” she asked. Gwend’s face softened and she placed a comforting hand on Dalla’s arm.   
“For a female to merely lie there is one way,” she explained, “But it is not the King’s way. He prefers for a female to participate in the act, to move with him, give voice to her pleasure.”   
“Scream loud enough for them to hear in Lothlorien,” Inariel joked, “Gwend, this goes beyond just her books. Have you seen her clothes?” Dalla felt hurt as Inariel held up one of her silk gowns.   
“What is wrong with my clothes?” she asked.   
“Nothing if you have chosen a life of celibacy,” Inariel continued.   
“Inariel!” Gwend’s normally gentle voice turned sharp, “They are very nice, Dalla, but not quite to the King’s taste. If you will allow, Finnel could alter them slightly.”   
“Alter how?”   
“Nothing drastic,” Gwend reassured her as she gestured for Inariel to leave, “A lower neckline and some shorter sleeves. Very minor adjustments.” Inariel stalked out the door casting another appreciative glance at the new girl.   
“Oh, I thought…” Dalla said as she looked at Gwend's clothing. It wasn't all that revealing, she supposed.   
“You seem to have a lot of preconceptions about what is and is not expected of you, my dear,” Gwend said, putting the books down and placing one arm around Dalla’s shoulders, “But that is why I am here, I am here to help you find your feet. Now, I have a question, and I wish for you to be honest. Have you ever lain with an ellon, or any male for that matter?” Dalla shook her head.   
“Ah,” Gwend said, “King Bard failed to mention that.”   
“He believed that I would be more desirable as I am untouched,” Dalla explained.   
“Yes, I can see that,” Gwend said, “My dear, you have been gravely misinformed about what is expected of you. I would like for you to follow the instructions I am about to give you, and then we can make a decision going forward. Finnel is about to bring you some of the finest erotic literature outside of the libraries of Imladris; read them, absorb them. They will explain so much of the act, I promise you.” Dalla nodded, her stomach clenching with nerves slightly.   
“And tonight, I want you to take a walk down the hall to the left,” Gwend continued, “My door will be open, and I shall be being visited by the King. You will see exactly what is expected of you. If after these, you are no longer willing to be part of this harem, you must tell me, and I will to see to it that you are returned home safely.”   
“But…”   
“But nothing,” Gwend said, “King Thranduil has no wish for someone to be here against their will. Have you any questions or requests?”   
“Only...well...please don’t tell him of my inexperience,” Dalla said, “Not yet anyway.”   
“I will have to tell him eventually,” Gwend warned her, “But I promise, I will not say a word this day.”   
“Thank you,” Dalla said, “I had no idea there was more than one way to copulate.” Gwend chuckled slightly.   
“There are many ways to copulate,” she explained, “And the King is a practitioner of many of them.”

 

A knock at the door had them turn their heads. Anira stood there with another maid.   
“My ladies, the midday meal is almost ready,” said the newcomer.   
“Thank you, Faelwen, we will be along shortly,” Gwend answered, “See that the guard are ready, Anira, could you ensure that Mae is rowsed for me please?”   
“Yes, my lady,” Anira replied before leaving with Faelwen.   
“Faelwen is my personal maid,” Gwend explained as she guided Dalla towards the door, “If you cannot find me, have Anira seek Faelwen out.” She paused for a moment and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Dalla’s ear.   
“Tomorrow, I shall instruct you on how to dress your hair like an elleth,” she said, “I believe I know a style that will pique the King’s interest.”


	3. Chapter Three

Gwend led Dalla out of her private chambers and through the corridor to a large open room. Dalla had briefly passed through it that morning upon her arrival but hadn’t had the opportunity to take a good look around. Murals depicting the forest in times gone by decorated each wall, framed by decorative archways. So detailed were the paintings, they looked almost like windows. Chaise lounges made with pastel blues and greens were dotted around the outer edges of the room. Beside each one was different items. One had a small harp leaning against it, a few pages with musical notes written on it lay on the lounge. Another had a quiver of arrows resting upon it, the tools for fletching lay on the floor beside them. Another had an easel beside it, various brushes and pots of paint scattered about. The rest all seemed to have books, neatly stacked, next to them. On one of the chaise was seated another elleth. Her hair descended past her waist, the platinum tresses neatly coiffed about her head. Her face looked as though she were carved from the most beautiful marble, so pale was her skin. She was dressed more modestly than Gwend and the other ladies. Her neckline was higher than most of Dalla’s gowns, her sleeves were folded at her elbows to allow her to hold her book which she was studiously reading and her feet were hidden by a long hemline.

  


Dalla glanced at Gwend, confused as to why her clothes had to be altered, and yet this elleth was dressed so conservatively. Gwend’s mouth formed a straight line as she pressed her lips together for a moment.

“Dalla, this is Idhren, another of our sisters,” she said, “Idhren, this is our newcomer, Dalla of Dale.” Idhren’s eyes looked away from the page before her, glancing towards Dalla. She looked for just a moment before returning her gaze to her book.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Idhren,” Dalla said as brightly as she could. She saw Idhren roll her eyes before continuing to read.

“Try not to fret,” Gwend whispered into her ear, “Idhren prefers her own company.” A noise behind them drew their attention. Inariel stalked towards them, Finnel at her side, chatting animatedly. A smirk crossed Inariel’s face when she spotted Dalla. Dalla went to take a step back, to hide behind Gwend. Gwend put her arm out and stopped Dalla’s movement, gently moving her back into place. Dalla stood up straight again, taking Gwend’s hint not to submit before Inariel.

“Dalla, I have those books for you!” Finnel said excitedly. She hurried forward, three books in her hands.

“This one is my favorite, I highly recommend you read it first," she said, "Oh but this one is more descriptive, but it feels rather clinical at times. This one, save this one for last, I found it rather...stimulating, and it features many methods of coupling." She glanced around and leaned in.

“It is also the King’s favorite,” she whispered before pulling back.

“I shall put these over here for you,” she said, walking towards a green chaise lounge which had no trinkets or possessions around it. She placed the three books on the cushioned seat.

“These are mine,” she said as she turned and pointed to the chaise to the right, which had many books about it, “You may borrow them any time you wish.”

“Thank you, Finnel,” Dalla said, smiling. Finnel’s cheery nature was infectious and comforting at the same time. It was apparent the elleth wanted her to feel welcome.

  


  


“Ah, and here are our other sisters,” Finnel said.

“Dalla, this is Vinga and Mae,” Gwend said, extending a hand towards the two elleths who were just arriving. Vinga stood tall, although still shorter than Inariel, her jet black hair fell down her back in gentle waves, and the bottom of her dress was damp and stained with dirt.

“How were the gardens this morning, Vinga?” Inariel asked, folding her arms as she too spotted Vinga’s dirtied hemline.

“Beautiful as always, Tuigalen has outdone herself this year,” Vinga replied. Her accent was different from the others, Dalla noticed before turning her attention to Mae. Mae looked younger than the other elleths, a slight roundness still to her face that was graced with a smile that made Dalla want to smile even more herself. Her hair too was blonde like Gwend and Idhren but a darker shade, and it was held in a thick braid that draped over one shoulder and descended down to the bottom of her swollen belly. Dalla swallowed. Mae was clearly heavily pregnant.

“Vinga, Mae, come greet our new sister,” Gwend called to them. The two elleths greeted her warmly, with gentle hands on her upper arms and even gentler smiles. Dalla returned them nervously, her eyes continually dropping to Mae's stomach. The young elleth noticed and ran one hand over the bump beneath her dress.

“Forgive me for not greeting you sooner, but this one does a fine job of keeping me from rest,” she said.

“It...it is the King’s?” Dalla asked before feeling her cheeks burn.

“Of course,” Mae said, “Have you not been told? No one, save the King, is allowed to touch us.”

"I had not had the chance to explain the rules fully yet," Gwend explained, “But Mae is right; not even the guards are permitted to touch us except in the most extreme circumstances. So, any children born into the harem, are the King’s children.”

“How many does he have?”

“From the harem, this will be his eighth,” Gwend said, “Ninth if you include Prince Legolas.”

"Eighth?" Dalla said in surprise looking around and seeing no sign of children, Gwend chuckled.

“Come, you will meet them,” she said, extending an arm towards the door that led out into the King’s Halls, “Ladies, it is time for the midday meal.” Finnel rushed forward and linked her arm with Mae. Out the corner of her eye, Dalla saw Idhren reluctantly close her book and rise, moving to follow Finnel and Mae. Inariel and Vinga fell into step next to each other, leaving Dalla and Gwend to bring up the rear.

  


Outside the doors, the all-female guard was waiting, falling into place and step with the ladies of the harem. They moved slowly, no doubt at the only speed at which Mae could move comfortably, but it gave Dalla chance to look around and see her new home properly for the first time. The vast carved walkways and corridors that crossed and recrossed each other, illuminated by lamps of red crystal. Each wall was carved with images from the history of the Elves. Some stories she recognized, others she did not. As they made their way through the Halls, other Elves ducking out of their way as they went, they slowed to a stop.

“Ladies,” Gwend said as she stepped from Dalla's side, "Let us all take a moment to remember our Queen and that it is by her will that we are here today." Dalla glanced to one side and saw a portrait painted on the wall, of a Sindar elleth, dressed in silver with a silver circlet on her brow. Dalla saw the other ladies bow their heads and curtsey before the portrait, remaining silent and solemn for a moment before lifting their heads again. They once again resumed their walk, their guards around them.

  


After a while of walking through the halls, they arrived at another set of carved doors, this time in wood. The guards filtered out to the sides, allowing Finnel and Mae to open the doors and lead the way inside. The room was large, larger even than the common room in the harem. In the center was a large table, surrounded by chairs. Seated at the far end, one leg resting on the other, was King Thranduil. He was leaned to one side, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, his hand supporting his head. A lazy smile graced his face as he listened to the chatter of the small child sat in his lap. A little girl with long red hair who was talking to him excitedly and gesturing wildly as she told a story.

"Really?" the King said gently, "So what did you say?" The child instantly started babbling again, prompting a chuckle from the King. The sound of the ladies entering drew his attention, and he looked over. He leaned in and whispered something in the child's ear. She looked over, and her face brightened.

“ _Naneth_!” she cried, leaping from the King’s lap and running across the room. Finnel crouched down and scooped the girl up in her arms. More cries of _Naneth_ came up from around the room as more children appeared. A boy with the King’s long platinum hair rushed to Gwend, a girl of similar age with dark hair ran to Inariel, and two girls with black hair went to Vinga.

“Children, meet your new _thel-en-naneth_ , Dalla of Dale,” said Gwend, “Dalla, this is my youngest son, Ceven.” She placed a proud hand on the boys head.

“Youngest?” Dalla queried.

“Yes, the King and I share three sons,” Gwend explained, “Two have reached their maturity, Ceven here is only forty years of age.”

“Forty?” Dalla asked, “I am only twenty-five.”

“We do not reach adulthood til one hundred years,” Gwend continued, “So Ceven has many years of childhood to go. Now hurry along, my love, take your place.” She bent down and pressed a kiss to the boy’s head.

“Ceven,” Dalla whispered to herself in a bid to commit it to memory as she watched the boy seat himself a couple of chairs from his father. Inariel’s daughter sat next to Ceven, and the two started whispering to each other and giggling.

“That is Mirima,” Gwend said softly as she steered Dalla towards the table, “She’s a gentler soul than her mother, she and Ceven like to play music together.”

“They are close?”

“Oh yes,” Gwend said, “They were born mere weeks apart and have been fast friends since first they laid eyes on each other.”

“And those two?” Dalla asked, gesturing to the two dark-haired girls sat either side of Vinga.

“Tuigalen is the elder one, she is seventy-five, almost an adult, a keen gardener too,” Gwend explained, “And then there is Areth, none have a more vivid imagination than she. And seated in the King’s lap once more is Lothiriel, his daughter by Finnel.” She indicated a chair for Dalla to sit in beside Mae before sitting next to the King. There were four empty chairs left around the table once everyone was sat. Two between Gwend and Dalla, one beside Thranduil and one beside Idhren. The doors opened again, and two full-grown ellons strode in. Dalla had to do a double-take. One was the exact image of the King, though perhaps an inch or so shorter. He wore a military uniform, a sword hanging from his belt. Beside him walked another ellon, close enough alike to be brothers, though he seemed to resemble Gwend more. He was not as tall as the other and wore a different uniform. These, Dalla guessed, must be her elder sons.

“Dalla, meet my sons, Thangonnas and Feredir,” Gwend said, smiling proudly, “Thangonnas, Feredir, meet Dalla of Dale, our new arrival.”

  


By this point, the two ellons were in line with Dalla. The taller of the two gave the other a playful shove that he was clearly not expecting, sending him stumbling to the floor. He let out a hearty laugh as his brother climbed back to his feet whilst seating himself in the chair next to Dalla.

“A pleasure to meet you, Dalla of Dale,” he said, “I am Thangonnas. And that on the floor there is my brother, Feredir.”

“Thangonnas, you are such a brute!” Tuigalen said from across the table, a look of disgust on her face. Thangonnas just stuck out his tongue at her. Tuigalen snorted in disgust, prompting him to do it again.

“Thangonnas, Tuigalen, enough!” the King spoke as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Both of you. Feredir, are you hurt?”

“Just my pride, _Adar_ ,” Feredir said, sitting between Thangonnas and their mother. The doors opened once more, and a face Dalla recognized entered. Prince Legolas had not changed in appearance since the battle two decades before. Although Dalla had been young, she remembered him from then and a few of his later visits to Dale. Beside him walked a younger Sindar ellon whose face developed a sour look when he laid eyes on Thangonnas and Feredir. Legolas and the younger ellon both bowed their heads to the King.

“ _Adar_ ,” Legolas said in greeting. He walked around the table and took the seat next to the King. Little Lothiriel immediately held out her arms to him as she scrambled from her father’s lap and into his. The other merely took his seat next to Idhren.

“That is Sirveleg, Idhren’s son,” Thangonnas whispered in her ear in a low voice as he leaned in.

“I do not see the King in his features,” she whispered back. All the other children, be it their eyes, hair, nose or chin bore something resembling Thranduil; this boy did not.

“That is because he is not my father’s son,” Thangonnas replied, “Idhren is a widow, and Sirveleg is her husband’s son.” There was something in his tone that sounded off.

“I feel you do not like the boy,” she hissed, checking that the King was not watching them.

“I cannot stand the boy, the way he treats my siblings is abhorrent,” he said.

“Thangonnas,” the King’s voice came with a warning tone and Thangonnas sat back up straight.

“Have no fear _Adar_ ,” he said, “I was merely getting to know my new _thel-en-naneth_.”

“You, get to know a female before you bed her?” Feredir said, “That is new.”

“Come now, brother, I came to know Sidhiel very well before I bedded her,” Thangonnas joked as servants appeared and began to place plates on the table, starting with the King.

“Yes, whilst I was courting her!” Feredir snapped angrily, slamming a hand on the table.

“Thangonnas, Feredir!” the King warned them yet again, “One meal, without an argument over a female please!” The two brothers turned their heads away from each other.

“Be careful which fields you sow your seed in, my son,” Gwend spoke, looking pointedly at Thangonnas.

“The fields in which I am sowing the seeds will never take root,” Thangonnas replied with a grin. Feredir and Thranduil rolled their eyes whilst Tuigalen scrunched up her nose as if she had smelt something foul.

“Let us eat,” Thranduil said as he cast his eyes over his harem and their children, “And welcome Dalla of Dale properly.” He lifted the glass of rich red wine that sat before him.

“ _Mae govannen_ Dalla,” he said, his deep voice echoing around the room.

“ _Mae govannen_ ,” the others around the table chorused, children and adults alike.

  


The meal passed in relative peace. Thangonnas proved to be good conversation, for, despite his implied womanizing ways and cheeky sense of humor, he was very well-read, not to mention a general within Thranduil’s army. But his conversation did little to draw Dalla’s attention away from the end of the table. For most of the meal, Thranduil’s hand rested on top of Gwend’s, fingers intertwined. Occasionally he would lift it to press a kiss to her palm or lean in and whisper something in her ear, a salacious smirk on his lips.

“Your mother and father are very close,” she said quietly to Thangonnas. He turned his head slightly to look at her.

“Utterly devoted,” he said, “And they have been for over four millennia, since my grandfather, Oropher, was King.”

“And yet he married another?”

“My mother is not of noble birth,” Thangonnas replied, "She was not deemed suitable to be a Queen, but they remained close, and my mother was a dear friend of the late Queen also. They would sit and talk together whilst Legolas, and I played as children."

“Thangonnas, come here for a moment!” Gwend called, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Pardon me, my lady,” Thangonnas said as he rose from his chair.

  


As he left, Mae leaned in.

“I too have heard that Gwend and the Queen were good friends,” she said as Dalla lifted her glass to drink, “That is why we pay our respects at her portrait each day.”

“It is a fine way to honor those who are no longer with us,” Dalla observed as she took a sip.

“I have also heard that the King bedded them both on his wedding night,” Mae whispered. Dalla choked on her drink, spluttering and coughing to dislodge the errant wine. Her chair was pulled back as her eyes watered and a firm hand gently pushed her head down towards her knees as she coughed up the wine.

“Thangonnas, pass me some water,” she heard the King’s voice above her. After her spluttering had ceased, she felt him place a hand on her shoulder and ease her back up.

"Easy now," he said as she coughed a little, "Here, drink this, slowly." He handed her a cup of water, and she carefully slipped at it until the coughing stopped.

“There now,” he said gently, crouching slightly, “Are you alright?” Dalla looked at him and nodded.

“Yes, thank you…” she glanced up at Gwend who mouthed the words ‘my King’ to her.

“My King,” Dalla finished. Thranduil half-smiled as he reached out to touch her. Dalla fought the urge to move as his palm touched her cheek and his thumb brushed away the water that had collected under her eyes. It was gentle and warm, and almost soothing.

“Now, what was so shocking that Mae almost killed you?” he asked. She swallowed. She didn’t dare repeat what Mae has said.

“Nothing,” she lied, “I just….It went down the wrong way as Mae was speaking to me.”

“Well, no harm done as it were,” he said, pulling his hand away, the warmth going with it.

  


*

  


After returning to the harem after lunch, Gwend and Finnel set about helping Dalla unpack with Vinga helping. Idhren had immediately returned to her chaise and resumed reading without so much as a word. Finnel had taken three dresses with her to adjust, with the promise of having them ready by morning. She’d seemed quite delighted at the unexpected project. Vinga had boasted proudly of the work her daughter, Tuigalen did in the gardens and her natural affinity for all things that grow. Dalla had listened, learning more and more about her new sisters, and the odd tidbit about the King too. They had no fear of him. He had demonstrated nothing but kind, loving protection towards them. Each of them had been appropriately wooed before being asked to join the harem. There had been many elleths over the years who had turned him down and had continued on their way with his compliments. Dalla was the first to have come exclusively to join the harem as well as the first mortal.

  


After unpacking, the ladies retreated to their own tasks. Gwend went to the nursery to give Ceven and Mirima a music lesson, Vinga was engaged in language studies in the library, Finnel went to work on Dalla’s clothes although she offered to bring her materials to Dalla’s chambers. Dalla had politely refused, saying she wished to read the books Finnel had found for her. Entering the common area, she noticed Inariel and Mae engaged in quiet conversation as Inariel trimmed the feathers on some arrows whilst Mae painted, though more paint ended up on her bump and arms than on the canvas. The chaise lounge that Finnel had picked out to be Dalla's was close to them, so as she read, they spoke to her, asking questions about her life in Dale and what she enjoyed doing. Dalla told them of her love of storytelling, both spoken and written, and how she loved to weave tales of valiant kings and knights battling dragons and evil men. As she spoke, she noticed Idhren casting sideways glances at them that were as far from friendly as could be imagined. At first, Dalla thought maybe Idhren held contempt for her, being of the race of Men, but her sneers were also directed at Inariel and Mae too. Mae, being as sweet-natured as she was, ignored them, continuing painting as she hummed a melody to herself. Inariel however did not, and after some time, seemed to grow impatient.

“Do you have a problem, Idhren?” she snarled, casting down her tools and standing up. Idhren said nothing, just looking Inariel up and down before returning to her book.

“I asked you a question, answer me!” Inariel demanded, “Or am I too low born to be worthy of your words?” She muttered under her breath as Gwend returned from giving her lessons.

“What is going on here?” she asked, her tone clipped.

“Idhren, as usual,” Inariel replied, “She looks upon us as if we are dirt!”

“I am sure…” Gwend started.

“She has nothing but contempt for us, Gwend,” Inariel interrupted, “You know this! She believes because she is high born, she is more worthy of the King’s affection!” Idhren smirked when she saw how irritated Inariel was becoming.

“Smirk all you want, Idhren, but you barely grace the King’s bed one night in ten,” Inariel snarled, “Whereas he comes to me no less than three times in seven! It is no wonder his seed has not taken root within you!” Idhren scowled and rose to her feet, casting her book to the floor.

“Inariel, enough!” Gwend intervened, "It matters not how often the King seeks us out for his pleasure. We work together for that common goal. And no one of us is more worthy than another for that, or for bearing his children. Mae, Dalla, return to your rooms, please. I need to speak with our sisters alone." Dalla closed the book she was reading and stood, waiting for Mae to put down her brushes. As the elleth waddled closer, Dalla offered her arm for support which Mae gratefully accepted as they walked to the corridor.

  


As they walked down towards their rooms, Mae spoke.

“Thank you, for not telling the King what I said earlier,” she said, “Sometimes, I just say things without thinking.”

“Oh, I would never have been comfortable repeating it to him anyway,” Dalla admitted, “How long have you got left?” She indicated Mae’s stomach.

"Oh, at least three months yet!" Mae laughed, her hand running over it, "I sometimes worry, with it being my first but I am reassured that the King will be present when the time comes."

“He attends all the births of his children?” Dalla asked.

“Oh yes, he is a very attentive father,” Mae answered, “He dotes on his children, all of them, encourages them and is very proud of their accomplishments. Every feast, Ceven, and Mirima play music for the guests, and visitors are always shown Tuigalen’s flower beds in the gardens.”

“Yes, he does seem to love all of them,” Dalla mused, “Is...is it expected for us to bear him children?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, no!” Mae said, “No, the decision is reached together, you and the King, before trying for a child.”

“I trust that the King and Idhren reached that decision recently then?”

“Yes, well, no, actually,” Mae said quietly, “It must have been...ten years past they began trying but have had no success yet. But as Inariel said, Idhren is bedded by the King no more than one night in ten. Which is odd, as when we decided to have a child together, he lay with me every night for almost a fortnight until I had conceived.”

“Odd,” Dalla said.

“Yes,” Mae agreed, “Now that I think about it. I wonder if the King’s heart is not truly in his task.”

“Perhaps,” Dalla replied, “Is this your room?”

“Oh, yes, thank you, Dalla,” Mae said, “This little one kicks me so hard, it is painful to walk sometimes.”

“Is there nothing they can do for you?”

“Nothing that works for long,” Mae said, “I may have to ask for the King to pay me a visit. He seems to be able to calm them enough for me to sleep. Again, thank you.” Dalla helped Mae through her door before continuing on to her own. The sound of Inariel’s raised voice still echoed from the common room.

  


Dalla sat on her bed and read. She had begun with Finnel’s favorite, a long romantic tale. So far the valiant knight had been wooing his lady in a most gentlemanly manner, but as Anira came in with a platter of bread, cheese, and fruits for her evening meal, the tale took a steamy turn with the knight pulling the lady into an alcove to kiss her. Dalla continued to read, enthralled in the story as she picked at her food and sipped from the glass of wine given to her. Her heart raced as she read about the knight lifting the lady's skirts. She licked her lips as the words described his tongue plunging into the lady's mouth and tangling with hers. Heat rushed through her veins and pooled between her legs as she read about the bodice of the dress being ripped open and the knight ravaging his lady's body. And then she realized, she was experiencing the same sensations as the lady. Her heart racing, dry lips, and mouth, a throbbing ache between her legs; arousal. She continued on, absorbing every word on the page as the knight and his lady made love through the night so vigorously they broke the bed. The final chapter described the wedding night when their passions turned tender, and the knight's ministrations became gentle.

  


As she placed the book down, she stared silently at it for a moment. She understood now what she was feeling, what the strange jolt that morning had been, and it left her feeling sorely in need of a knight of her own. Except it wasn’t a knight who awaited her in his bed, it was a King. She blinked as she realized how late the hour had become. Perhaps it was already time to take that walk that Gwend had suggested. Her hearts furious beating urged her to go, even though she knew she would likely encounter the King and Gwend in a moment of passion. Words would satisfy her curiosity no more tonight, she had to see it for herself. She rose from her seat and slipped out of her rooms. She crept as quietly as she could down the corridor towards the open door she could see at the end, flickering candlelight filtering through. Her heart fluttered a little as she heard a soft feminine moan, followed by another, and then another, and then the sound of Gwend sighing, “Yes!”

  


Reaching the door, which was indeed open, she peeked inside and stifled a gasp with her hand. Gwend lay nude on the bed, head tilted back and eyes closed in bliss. But it was not the King delivering it upon her. The dark chestnut hair that cascaded over Gwend’s body was unmistakably Inariel’s. Her mouth was closed over one of Gwend’s breasts, suckling upon it as her fingers delved between Gwend’s legs, moving rhythmically. Gwend yelped a little, and her legs parted just enough for Dalla to see that two of Inariel’s fingers were buried inside Gwend.

“Another,” a deep voice came from a side of the room obscured from Dalla’s view. It was the King.

Both ladies sighed and gasped as Inariel slid another finger into Gwend. Gwend’s hips began to tilt into Inariel’s hand, moaning and sighing as she went.

“Yes!” Gwend cried out, “Yes.” Inariel raised her head and leaned over Gwend to kiss her, their tongues tangling together. The very sight sent new rushes of heat to pool between Dalla’s legs.

“Yes,” the King growled from his hiding spot, “Keep going.” Inariel shifted slightly to kneel, her rump raised in the air.

  


The King moved from his hiding spot, placing one hand on Inariel’s back as he lowered his head and licked between her legs. Inariel’s mouth ripped from Gwends as she cried out as the King continued to lick her. Gwend reached up and grasped one of Inariel’s breasts, tweaking the nipple, making Inariel whimper and return to kissing her. Thranduil pulled back and began to move Inariel until she straddled one of Gwend’s legs, lowering her body to the other elleth’s. The two of them moved against each other, sighing into their kiss as they fondled and caressed each other. The King's breathing became heavy, and he moved closer, his hand running along Inariel’s spine, over her rear, and down Gwend’s leg. He moved to kneel upon the bed behind Inariel, whispering softly to her.

  


Dalla’s eyes widened in shock as she saw the King’s prodigious elfhood in his hand; thick, stiff and leaking. He murmured words Dalla couldn’t hear before he slid into Inariel’s waiting sex. He moaned, his fingers gripping Inariel’s hips. She gasped, her head tilting back. Gwend smoothed Inariel’s hair from her face and whispered to her gently as the King began to thrust. His hips moved gracefully, each fluid motion withdrawing from her slightly before slamming back into her.

“Yes,” he groaned, “So beautiful, yes, Inariel, you are divine! Kiss her again.” Inariel’s head dropped back down and kissed Gwend hard, her tongue forcing its way into the other elleth’s mouth.

“Yes, keep going,” he moaned, “Oh yes, Inariel, I can feel it, you are close! Keep going! Gwend, make her finish!” Gwend tore her mouth from Inariel’s and slid a little further down the bed. She closed her mouth over Inariel’s breast and suckled hard. Inariel cried out, pushing her hips back into Thranduil’s thrusts. He picked up speed, groaning as he went.

“Yes!” he grunted, “Yes, she is coming.” His movements became erratic as Inariel tensed and cried out.

“Please, please, my King,” she moaned, “Please, inside me, fill me with your seed.” Thranduil slammed into her with a roar, his eyes closed, the veins in his neck bulging out. Inariel let out a wail, her head dropping to Gwend’s neck as her whole body shivered. Thranduil remained still for a moment, fighting to catch his breath before looking at the two elleths who lay in a heap before him.

“Do not fret, I have not forgotten you,” his voice rumbled in his chest as he reached down and gently squeezed Gwend’s breast. A lascivious grin spread across his face before he looked up and straight at Dalla. The grin fell.

“Dalla,” he said, his face unreadable. Gwend’s head swiveled to look at the door as Thranduil stepped back, withdrawing from Inariel.

“No,” she whispered. Dalla just turned and ran.

  


She ran back down the corridor, headed back to her rooms.

“No, my King, wait!” she heard Gwend call and knew that an angry Elven King was surely right behind her. She had just reached her door when a hand took hold of her arm and spun her around, slamming her back into the door. Before her stood the Elven King, nude, erection still glistening and twitching between his legs. His pupils were blown wide with arousal as he placed his hands on either side of her head. Her heart pounded, her mouth was suddenly as dry as the grassy plains in summer.

“What were you doing?” he asked, “Did you see something you liked?” He leaned in close to her.

“Did you wish to join us?” he whispered. Dalla trembled at the sudden thought of being bedded by him. Even in her state of arousal, stories of the pain and discomfort from losing one’s innocence invaded her mind. She whimpered slightly in fear and looked away. She heard the sound of him stepping back. She opened her eyes and looked towards him. His face was neutral as he looked down at her.

“You fear me,” he stated before glancing back down the corridor. Gwend and Inariel hovered near Gwend’s door, watching. He looked back to Dalla and reached for the door handle. Dalla flinched as his arm brushed past her. He pushed the door open.

“Good night Dalla,” he said, his voice flat.


	4. Chapter Four

Dalla’s heart pounded as she heard Thranduil’s footsteps retreat. Even from down the hall and through the door, she could hear his deep voice rumbling. There came the sound of someone moving swiftly down the hall and another door shutting. Inariel, sent back to her room no doubt. Then his voice had raised. He was not shouting, but he was clearly displeased with Gwend and making it known. Dalla could hear Gwend responding, and she carefully opened the door a crack to watch.

“What were you thinking, Gwend?” the King snarled, as he prowled around her, “Inviting her to spy on us?!”

“I have my reasons, Thranduil, I always have a reason,” Gwend countered, standing her ground.

“Which are?” he growled, “Or will you lie to me as Dalla did this afternoon?”

“It was Mae, it was probably some half-baked piece of idle gossip,” Gwend argued, “Let us be honest, Thranduil, you did not bring Mae into this harem for her mind!”

“Oh not again!” Thranduil muttered.

“Yes, again!” Gwend said firmly, “You paid a visit to Dale and came back feeling year-sick, within half a year, you had brought in the youngest female yet! Not to mention that blasted Elk! I know how much you paid for that!”

“Are you my chief courtesan or my treasurer now?”

“I thought I was the one you loved more than anything? Or are your words as feeble as your trust in me evidently is?” Gwend replied, quieter now. The King recoiled for a moment before his face softened.

“Gwend…” he said gently as he reached out to her. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her in close. Her hands came up to hold his arm.

“I do love you,” he said, his voice low and his eyes fixed on her, “I love you more than anything.”

“And I you,” Gwend replied, “I have always accepted your love for my sisters, and I will accept it when you grow to love Dalla too. But that is all meaningless if you cannot trust me.” Thranduil sighed, leaning in and kissing her temple.

“I trust you,” he said softly, “All I ask is you be honest with me.” Gwend closed her eyes and sighed.

“I invited Dalla to watch tonight because she is untouched, Thranduil, she has never lain with a male,” Gwend explained, “I wanted her to see you as you are when we are together, to see how she has nothing to fear from you.” Dalla held her breath, waiting for the King’s ire.

“And I invited Inariel to join us,” he said, his face in a grimace, “If you had said….I would have kept it as just we two.” Dalla could hardly believe it; he wasn’t angry.

“And she would have seen how tender, how gentle you can be,” Gwend said, “I promised her I would not tell you.”

“I am glad you did,” he replied, one hand coming up to cup Gwend’s cheek, “I suspected when she recoiled...she will require extra attention.” Gwend hummed her agreement as he tilted her head up and kissed her.

Dalla continued to watch through the gap in her door as the King began to caress Gwend. This was what she had been meant to see. The tender touches the King was now giving Gwend were a marked contrast to the debauched scene they had shared with Inariel. His hands seemed to be worshipping her as they trailed over her body, drawing soft sighs from her lips. His elfhood twitched back to life each time she moaned.

“Take me to bed, my King,” Gwend whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “Make love with me.” Thranduil scooped her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist.

“As my lady wishes,” he said as they retreated into Gwend’s room. Dalla had barely stepped away and shut the door before she heard the sounds of their intermingled moans.

  


*

  


The next morning, Dalla lay in bed for a long time after she woke, pondering over what she had seen the night before. She bore Gwend no ill will for going back on her word; she was quite surprised to find herself relieved almost. The King hadn’t been angry, he had seemed concerned that he should spend more time with her to prepare her better. She felt reassured by that, and the King’s actions towards Gwend after, his tender touches and passionate kisses. They all rang similar to the actions of the knight in her book. A knock came at the door, and Anira entered.

“Good morning, my lady,” she said, curtseying slightly, “Are you ready to rise?”

"Yes, thank you," Dalla said, sitting up. She got out from under the covers, and Anira immediately began helping her remove her nightdress and redress for the day. Anira had already collected one of Dalla’s dresses from Finnel, a beautiful deep green woolen gown that Finnel had altered so that Dalla’s shoulders and neck were exposed. Anira pursed her lips as she realized that none of Dalla’s underdresses would be suitable to wear with it.

“My apologies, my lady,” she said after she explained.

“It’s alright, Anira,” Dalla said, “It is a warm dress, I won’t need the extra layer.” Anira nodded and continued to dress her.

  


Anira sat Dalla down at the dressing table and proceeded to brush her hair when there came a knock at the door. Anira stepped away and answered it.

“Lady Gwend, my lady,” she said as she stepped to one side, allowing the elleth in. Gwend looked somewhat sheepish as she approached.

“Thank you, Anira, you may wait outside,” she said. Anira curtseyed and left. Gwend turned her attention to Dalla.

"May I?" she asked, gesturing to the hairbrush on the table. Dalla nodded, and Gwend picked up the brush.

“I wish to apologize for last night," she said as she gathered Dalla's hair up on the one hand, "I did not intend for you to see that. I thought…"

“I overheard your conversation with the King after,” Dalla said when she trailed off, “I know what you intended.”

“Thranduil...King Thranduil feels awful for what he did,” Gwend continued as she brushed, “When he is in the throes of passion, he sometimes forgets himself, and it can take a while for his Kingly nature to be reasserted. He can misjudge a situation.”

“He saw someone watching him during an intimate act,” Dalla reasoned, “It is not unreasonable to believe such a person is interested in taking part.”

“You saw more and heard more than you are telling,” Gwend said, a small smile on her lips.

“I saw the way he looks at you, and not just last night,” Dalla said, “The way he touches you. He is madly in love with you.”

“And I him,” Gwend said, placing down the brush and running her fingers through Dalla’s hair to separate it into sections.

“Mae said something yesterday,” Dalla said as Gwend began to braid one section.

“I am sure she did,” Gwend chuckled.

“She said that the King...that he bedded both you and the Queen on his wedding night.”

“Not entirely untrue,” Gwend said as she finished the braid, “I did share their bed on occasion, but not until some years after they were wed.”

“Does the King require for us to share him?” Dalla asked tentatively. Gwend crouched down to be closer to Dalla’s height.

“The King only requires that we enjoy our time with him,” she explained, “Some of us; myself, Inariel and Finnel, we find members of our own sex as appealing as males. But the King will always seek our permission before bringing them to our bed. He surprised me with Inariel last night is all, I found myself unable to come up with a reason to say no.” She stood up and resumed work on Dalla’s hair.

“Are you more reassured now?” she asked as she made an identical braid on the opposite side.

“Yes, I am,” Dalla said, “Although, the thought of the act itself…”

“The King can be a very tender lover,” Gwend replied, “He will not press you if you are not ready. There now, as fashionable as any elleth in Arda." Dalla looked up at the mirror above the table. The majority of her hair was pulled back in a long thick braid with two smaller ones forming an almost crown-like circle around her head. A few strands were drawn from around her ears, and Gwend wrapped them around her fingers to encourage them to curl. Dalla had to admit, she liked it, and she felt her mouth quirk into a smile.

“Sometimes I wish I had a daughter that I could do this with,” Gwend mused, “But then I remember that Thangonnas is my son, and with males like him in the world, I am glad I do not have one. Come now, it is time to break our fast.” She called for Anira who came hurrying back in and finished the final touches to Dalla’s clothing and helped her with her shoes before holding the door open for them to leave.

  


In the common room, a large table, carved from the same silver birch as Dalla’s bedroom furniture, was set up in the middle, surrounded by seven chairs. The other ladies were already seated though Mae still looked half-asleep.

“Dalla, over here!” Finnel called, patting the chair between her and Vinga. Dalla joined them as Gwend took the seat at the head of the table. Idhren sat to her left, next to Mae. Inariel was on Mae's other side. Her eyes met Dalla's, and she gave her a brief nod, her face neutral. If Dalla had to guess, Inariel was a little embarrassed by the incident the night before.

“Good morning, ladies,” Gwend said as they were all seated, "I trust we are well rested." Dalla's attention was drawn to the sound of stone scraping, and she spotted Anira and six other maids bringing in plates. Each maid stood by her lady before placing the plate before her. Five of the maids, including Anira, held a cup in her hand and placed this down too. Dalla glanced at it, wondering what it was.

“It is a blend of herbs to prevent conception,” Finnel whispered, leaning in, "Mae cannot take it as she is with child and Idhren…”

“I understand,” Dalla said, reaching for her cup.

“Be careful, it is very bitter,” Finnel warned. Dalla sniffed at the liquid inside the cup. It did indeed smell bitter, so she took a small sip. It tasted vile.

“Down in one,” Vinga said, taking hers. Dalla took a deep breath and drained the cup in one go as Vinga, Finnel and Gwend all did. Inariel examined hers for a moment as if she were trying to weigh up her options. Eventually, she too drained the cup. Dalla coughed a little from the bitter taste, and Anira quickly offered her a cup of water. Only Gwend seemed unperturbed by the taste, finishing hers and swiftly moving on to her meal.

  


The ladies held a light conversation as they ate, mostly about the schedule of the children that day. It seemed there was to be an archery lesson, then music and finally a swimming lesson before the midday meal, the afternoon dedicated to arts and play. A knock at the door drew everyone's attention, and one of the maids answered it. She spoke with someone out of sight on the other side before reaching out for something. When she pulled her hands back towards her, she brought with her the most beautiful bouquet of wildflowers, so fresh, the morning's dew still sat up the petals. The maid curtseyed to whoever was outside and stepped back into the common room, closing the door. She then headed towards Dalla.

“These are for you, my lady,” she said, curtseying once more and holding the bouquet out to Dalla. Dalla was stunned for the moment. She had never been given flowers before. She recovered her senses quickly and took the bouquet that was tied with a beautiful silk ribbon. A small tag was attached to it, bearing a wax seal.

“The seal of the King!” Finnel exclaimed, "He must have gone out and collected these himself!" Dalla leaned in and sniffed the flowers. The delicate blend of scents was astounding, perfectly balanced and yet relaxing. She couldn't help the little skip of a heartbeat and the soft smile that curved her lips upwards. The smile was reflected in the face of all the ladies, save Idhren, who looked as though the flower’s scent was offensive.

  


The ladies finished their meals, and the plates were swiftly cleared away, back out the hidden door. The bouquet from Thranduil lay in the center of the table, Dalla could barely tear her eyes from the soft colors of pastel blue, pink and yellow. It was exquisite, so pure but yet so worthy of a King to give to someone. She supposed this must be his way of apologizing for the previous night. And for a gift so thoughtful, she was willing to forgive him. Gwend, Inariel, Finnel, and Vinga began to gather their tools for teaching their children as the maids hastily packed away the table, which seemed to be held together by an elaborate system of bolts and hinges that allowed it to be stored easily. Mae went with them as they left, as she had an appointment with the midwife to monitor her unborn child. She looked so tired, poor thing, Dalla felt so sorry for her, but Mae’s face lit up despite her tiredness whenever she looked down at her bump. It must be worth it. Idhren continued to look thoroughly unimpressed, rolling her eyes as the others chatted as they left. Dalla watched them go, bouquet still in hand until the doors shut once more.

“Do you not teach Sirveleg as the others teach their children?” she asked Idhren.

“My son is taught by the finest tutors in the Woodland Realm,” Idhren replied condescendingly, “A far superior education. Not that you would understand.” And with that, she cast one last glare at the flowers in Dalla’s hand, turned and left. And Dalla was pleased about it. Idhren, for all her beauty and grace, made the very room feel foul.

  


Dalla moved to her chaise lounge and picked up the other two books Finnel had lent to her. The second one, Finnel claimed, was very descriptive and informative of the act of love although lacking in intimacy. The third book, however, was apparently the King's favorite and following the events of the night before, and the arrival of the flowers, Dalla found herself curious.

“Would you like me to put the flowers in water, my lady?” Anira asked.

“Oh, yes, please,” Dalla said, lifting the bouquet, “Thank you Anira.”

“They are very beautiful, my lady,” Anira commented.

“Indeed they are,” Dalla said wistfully, “I still cannot believe that the King picked them for me.”

“He is a fine ellon, my lady, and an even finer King,” Anira said, “You are lucky.” And with that, she left, taking the flowers with her. Dalla returned her attention to the book in her hand and opened it.

  


The book was rather risque to say the least, describing fornication in a multitude of ways and yet carrying an entertaining plot at the same time. The book detailed coupling upon a bed, and then in a bath, then bent over a table, on the stairs, all in various positions and with different partners. Dalla shut the book quickly, a furious blush on her face when it described two ellons making love to the same elleth at the same time, and then to each other. She was more titillated than embarrassed, having never considered two males could make love to each other in such a way. She marked her page, thinking she would take the book with her to bed that night to read more. She had just stood to go put the book in her room when the stone doors opened. She froze, concerned that no knock had foreshadowed someone’s arrival. In strode the King. She immediately bowed her head and curtseyed before him.

“My King,” she said as the doors shut behind him.

“Dalla,” he said, “Forgive me for intruding, I was looking for Gwend.”

“She has gone with the others to teach the children,” Dalla explained.

“Ah yes, I thought I heard a ruckus on the archery field,” Thranduil said, “That means, it must be time for music and then…”

“Swimming, I believe she said,” Dalla offered when he trailed off.

“Of course, how could I forget?”

“Easily understandable when you have a kingdom to rule,” Dalla said.

“But not forgivable when I am the instructor,” Thranduil said, “A clutch of disappointed children would be a terrible thing to behold. Will you be joining us?”

“No, my King, I am afraid I do not know how to swim,” Dalla confessed. The King tilted his head in confusion.

“You were born on a lake and yet you do not know how to swim?” he asked.

“By the time my father felt I was strong enough, there was a dragon rotting in the lake,” Dalla said, “He felt that it would make me sick, and there was too much important work to do in Dale.”

“We shall have to remedy that,” Thranduil observed, “It is an important survival skill to have.”

  


Dalla nodded, unsure of how to respond.

“Thank you for the flowers,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush, “They are beautiful.”

“Fitting, for a beautiful lady,” he said as he stepped closer, “Unlike my actions last night. Please forgive me, my lady, I misjudged the whole situation.”

“All is forgiven,” Dalla said, “I still saw what Gwend intended for me to see.” Thranduil tilted his head again, and a smirk crossed his face.

“Have you taken up voyeurism as a pastime?” he asked.

“I have a curious nature and a vivid imagination,” Dalla grinned, “Always looking for new ways to improve my storytelling.”

“You tell stories?” he inquired. Dalla nodded.

“You shall have to tell me one someday,” he said, “Though, I daresay, we could come up with some of this nature together.” His fingers trailed down the spine of the book still in her hand.

“Oh,” she said, “Well…”

“This is one of my favorites,” he mused, his eyes on her as his fingers remained on the book.

“That is why I was reading it,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on his full lower lip that continued to curve in a smile, “To understand you more.”

“How far have you gotten?” he asked, his voice had become quiet and low in pitch.

“Umm, Alyan and Nithron…” she fought to think clearly enough to remember the names of the characters. Her mouth felt dry once more.

“Ah, that scene,” Thranduil said, “A fascinating piece.”

“Yes, fascinating,” Dalla repeated, her heart beating furiously as memories of him the night before came rushing back. His tongue working between Inariel’s legs, his tender caresses of Gwend, the erotic kisses he had delivered on his chief courtesan.

"Fascinating, like you," he continued, moving slightly closer, "A pure, innocent virgin, placed in the harem of a bedeviled King, and yet, you have shown more bravery than some soldiers. I half-expected you to run screaming from my kingdom last night. Yet you remain and endeavor to understand me more. Fascinating…" Dalla could no longer think straight, her senses had gone into overdrive, and yet her mind had turned to mush the closer the Elven-King got. He was toe-to-toe with her now, his fingers had moved from the book to trace over the back of her hand. His other hand came up to touch the coiled strand of hair hanging by her ear, his fingertips lightly grazing her cheek. He leaned in, and Dalla held her breath in anticipation, her eyes closing. She could feel him so close to her, his warm breath ghosting over her lips. Any second and his mouth would be on hers. His nose bumped hers, and she felt the barest graze of his lips against hers.

  


A cry and a smash had them drawing apart quickly. Dalla couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She had never been kissed before and yet when Thranduil had stood so close, it was all she could think of. She pulled away from him, dropping the book on her seat and hurrying off in search of the noise. She could hear Thranduil close behind her. Turning the corner to the corridor leading to the bedchambers, she found Anira kneeling on the floor, broken shards of porcelain, a large pool of water and crushed flowers before her. Idhren stood to one side, a look of revulsion on her face.

“I see you are still unwieldy,” she sneered down at the maid on the floor.

“Anira, what happened?” Dalla asked, hurrying forward and kneeling beside her maid.

“Forgive me, my lady,” Anira said quietly, “I must have tripped on something. Oh, my lady, your flowers!”

“Do not fret,” Thranduil said from where he stood close by, “There will always be more flowers, and vases can be repaired or replaced. Are you hurt at all?”

“She is incompetent,” Idhren remarked, “That is why I had her removed from my service. A lady with a poor maid is no lady.”

“I do not recall asking for your input, Idhren,” Thranduil commented, “Anira? Are you hurt?”

“No, my King,” Anira answered, bowing her head, “I have been fortunate.”

“See to it that this is cleared up promptly,” he said, “Idhren, Dalla, if you would join me, it is almost time for the children’s swimming lesson.”

“Oh, but, my King,” Dalla started.

“I will hear no protest,” Thranduil said, “Besides, how are you to become more acquainted with my Halls if you do not leave the Harem?” Dalla nodded in response and rose to her feet.

“I am sorry, my lady,” Anira said from where she knelt, gazing up at Dalla.

“As long as you are not hurt, that is all that matters,” Dalla replied before following the King as he left. As they approached the opened doors, Dalla felt a sharp tug on her arm.

“We must walk three paces behind the King at all times,” Idhren said disapprovingly as she yanked Dalla into place beside her. Her fingertips dug into the fleshy part of Dalla's arm, but Dalla resisted the urge to hiss in pain.

“Dalla, please, join me,” Thranduil said over his shoulder, one hand indicating the position on his left-hand side. Idhren looked aghast whilst Dalla bit her lip and moved forward quickly to take the offered place. As much as she didn’t wish to cause upset with her new sisters, the look on Idhren’s face made it all too satisfying. She glanced up at the King as they walked. There was a stiffness to his jaw that spoke of a hidden dissatisfaction. Her heart fluttered a little at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to kiss her as much as she had wanted to kiss him.


	5. Chapter Five

By the time they reached their destination, Dalla could tell Idhren was seething in anger. Her face was set, and she cast looks of loathing at Dalla whenever the King's gaze turned away. Dalla was surprised; she had thought the Elves above petty emotions such as jealousy. She felt a twinge of guilt for relishing Idhren’s dissatisfaction earlier.

Mae’s words from the previous day echoed in her mind. Ten years Idhren had been attempting to conceive the King’s child and had no success whilst Mae had succeeded in a matter of weeks. The prolific nature of his breeding proved that the King’s seed was highly unlikely to be at fault. When that was considered, Dalla could not blame Idhren for being envious of newcomers who would further take the King’s attention from her. But still, the glances the King sent her had tingles running down her spine and quickly erased any guilt she felt.

The chatter of children along with the sounds of splashing and screaming drew her attention back to where they were going. The King led the way through a narrow doorway, ducking slightly so as to not disturb the crown on his head. They emerged on the other side into a gigantic cavernous room, dominated by a large pool. Gwend and the other ladies were seated to one side, chatting as the children played around them. Thangonnas and Feredir were in the pool. Thangonnas had Ceven on his shoulders, and Feredir had Mirima, and the younger two elflings appeared to be attempting to wrestle each other. Tuigalen sat on the side of the pool, her feet in the water, near her sister, Areth. Lothiriel, the smallest child, lurked near her mother, her large green eyes looking at the water with uncertainty.

“Dalla, over here!” Finnel called to her. None of them looked to Idhren, so Dalla turned to invite her to join them, only for the fair elleth to brush past her and seat herself on a bench as far from the others as possible. By this point, the King had moved on, disappearing through another doorway, so Dalla made her way overto Finnel and the others. She sat next to Gwend and watched Mirima easily throw Ceven from Thangonnas’ shoulders. Inariel let out a whoop and cheered her daughter on.

“If there was ever any doubt that Mirima was your daughter, Inariel, it is now forgotten,” Gwend observed as Ceven emerged from below the water.

“Come on now, little brother,” Thangonnas said as Ceven scrambled back up onto his shoulders, “Do not let our sister overpower you so easily. Do better.” Ceven and Mirima resumed their wrestling, and once again, Ceven was immediately thrown back into the water. Inariel whooped again, and Mirima couldn't suppress the enormous grin that lit up her face.

Dalla did not see the result of the third match, though she doubted the victor would be any different, as, at that moment, the King reappeared. Gone was the long ornate robe and crown. He had also been relieved of his tunic and royal vestments.Instead, he wore only knee-length pants, made of some kind of silk. Dalla could not tear her eyes from him. Now exposed were his broad shoulders, a sculpted, defined chest and stomach and long arms that looked, for lack of a better word, perfect. Gwend grinned when she spotted Dalla’s appraisal of the King’s semi-nude form.

"A masterpiece is he not?" she whispered. Dalla could only swallow in response; her voice had entirely abandoned her. She noticed Inariel, Finnel, Vinga, and Mae were also gazing approvingly at their King and understood fully now why they would be so willing to be his concubines. For his body spoke of strength and prowess that Dalla'scalled out to understand. She wished for a moment she had ignored the sound of the smashing vase earlier, and kissed him properly, if only for a taste of what he could give her. She had been too shocked and frightened to look at him properly the night before, but now she enjoyed what she could see.

He strode over to the side of the pool and gracefully dived in, disappearing beneath the surface of the water for a moment before re-emerging. His platinum hair was soaked and plastered to his head, his pointed ears showing even more as he swam gracefully towards the side, stopping a few feet away.

“Come now Lothiriel, it is time for your lesson,” he said calmly. Lothiriel let go of Finnel’s hand and edged closer.

“Come on, little one _ **,”**_ Thranduil said, holding his arms out, “I will catch you.” Lothiriel reached the edge of the water and glanced down at her father, wringing her small hands nervously.

“Come on,” Thranduil encouraged, “I promise, I will catch you.” Lothiriel closed her eyes and leaped forward, straight into Thranduil's waiting arms. His steady hands caught her and pulled her in close to him.

“Well done,” he said, a grin on his face, “Very brave little one. Tuigalen, will you be joining us?” Tuigalen, although dressed in similar pants and a breast-band of the same material as the King’s swimwear, shook her head. She seemed quite happy sitting on the side, watching her younger siblings.

Thranduil floated away from the side, still holding Lothiriel as Areth followed and began the lesson. Mirima, Areth, and Ceven, it seemed, were all proficient swimmers and were each taking turns diving beneath the water under the watchful eyes of Thangonnas and Feredir.

Lothiriel was still learning the basics and spent most of her time, one-on-one, with Thranduil. He held her shoulders as she lay on her back, learning to float, Thranduil gently encouraging her until he let go and moved away. Lothiriel remained floating for a moment before panicking. Her sudden movements sent her under the water, and Dalla felt her heart leap into her throat, but Thranduil moved swiftly, and within seconds, Lothiriel was back above water, coughing and brushing her hair out her eyes.

Light footsteps echoed down the hallway, and moments later Prince Legolas joined the family poolside, although he did not look dressed for swimming. Behind him came Sirveleg who immediately strode over to his mother and sat beside her, a look of disdain for what he saw etched on his face, surpassed only by the look of pure contempt that marred his mother’s fair features.

Legolas approached the pool and crouched close to the side. Thranduil handed Lothiriel over to Feredir and swam over to greet his heir. Dalla watched the muscles in his back flex as he half-lifted himself out the water, to hear Legolas better. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Thangonnas swim closer to Tuigalen and whisper something. The young elleth quickly slipped into the water and followed him to the center of the pool.

“Thel-en-naneth, thel-en-naneth!” Ceven shouted, “Dalla!” Dalla looked back at the sound of her name.

“Come, see what I can do,” the young ellon cried. Dalla got to her feet and walked over to the side of the pool. Ceven giggled, took a deep breath and dove under the water behind Feredir. He disappeared for a few moments before reemerging in front of his brother.

“Look! I swam through Feredir’s legs!” Ceven shouted.

“Well done!” Dalla said, smiling.

“I can do it too!” Mirima said, taking a deep breath before disappearing under the water. She too emerged a few moments later. Dalla lowered herself to sit on the edge of the pool to see their diving display better. She slipped off her shoes and lifted her dress a little to dip her feet in the water, watching the younger children play with their older siblings.

She felt a slight pang of jealousy. She wanted to join them. Perhaps she should ask Thranduil to teach her. The thought of him holding her as he taught her to swim made her blood run hot. She was drawn from her thoughts as Mirima pulled herself out the water, splashing water onto Dalla. The elleth giggled and scampered off towards her mother.

Ceven showed her four more times how he could swim through Feredir’s legs as Tuigalen and Thangonnas held a conversation just beyond him. He had just completed the fifth display when there was a sharp cry, and a hard weight hit Dalla's back. Her breath froze in her lungs as she lurched forward and was plunged into the water.

As soon as she hit the water, she thrashed out with her arms and legs in a bid to return to the surface, but her dress quickly grew sodden and heavy, dragging her down further. Her lungs burned as she fought to hold her breath, her eyes began to sting, and she could only hear the sound of the water as it rushed into her ears. Her arms flailed desperately trying to right herself and get to the surface.

She heard a muffled noise like a crash and Thranduil appeared in the water beside her. He tugged her closer but quickly realized the dress was weighing her down considerably. His hands moved to one seam, gripping the fabric tight before pulling hard. The seam tore, and he ripped the dress from her. It sank down to the bottom of the pool as he pulled her tight against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, he kicked upwards. He had one arm locked tightly around her waist, crushing her against his chest as they broke the surface.

Dalla immediately coughed and sputtered as she brought up the water she had swallowed. She could hear Mirima screaming for her Adar. The child was wrapped in her mother's arms, and Inariel had one hand clamped to the back of her daughter’s head.

"Relax, I have you," Thranduil's deep, smooth voice spoke softly in her ear as he began to swim towards the water’s edge with one arm, “I have you.”

He managed to lift them both onto the side of the pool with ease, holding her close as he rubbed her back gently.

“Are you alright?” he asked when her coughing eased. She nodded.

“Yes, thank you, my King,” she said quietly. Thangonnas appeared at the King's side, holding a robe that he draped lightly over Dalla's shoulders before retreating. The King leaned back slightly and wrapped the robe securely around her. It was soft and warm, and smelled of a divine male scent; like freshly damp earth with a hint of musk and spice. It took a moment for Dalla to realize that it was his robe she was safely ensconced in, it was his scent that filled her senses as he brushed her wet hair from her face. He withdrew from her, rising to his feet and turning towards his crying daughter.

“Adar!” Mirima sobbed as he drew near. He dropped to his knees beside her, pressing a tender kiss to her head as his fingers ran over where Inariel’s had been just moments before.

“A bump,” he said softly as Mirima’s cries subsided, “Nothing more, I believe. But take her to see the healers, just in case.” Gwend crouched beside Dalla as Thranduil and Inariel exchanged quiet words.

“Are you alright?” she asked. Dalla nodded.

“What happened?” she asked the elleth. Gwend bit her lip for a moment.

“I am not sure,” she replied, “But it looks like Sirveleg knocked Mirima. She hit your back, and you fell into the water. Meanwhile, Mirima fell to the ground and hit her head.” Dalla looked back towards the King who had risen and turned towards Idhren and her son.

“Your son has harmed my daughter, and almost drowned Dalla,” Thranduil spoke, his voice restrained.

“The child is clumsy,” Idhren insisted, “She tripped.”

“Liar!” Inariel shouted, “I saw him shove her!”

“He is just a child!” Idhren protested.

“He is older than Tuigalen by five summers, yet she would never do such a thing!” Thranduil said, his voice rising, "Do not think his actions have ever escaped my notice!"

“He only acts this way because Thangonnas bullies him,” Idhren argued. Thangonnas looked aghast and began to protest.

“Do not insult my son with your feeble excuses!” Thranduil bellowed, rendering all around him silent, save for Mirima’s sobbing. Idhren palled and took half a step back lowering her eyes in submission.

“I have shown patience to the boy, but I fear we have reached its end,” he said, his voice lowering, “Dalla could have been drowned! Bring your son to heel, or I will." His voice was filled with warning, and his eyes had fury in them. He turned and stalked back over to Dalla, lifting her into his arms with ease.

“Legolas, see that Idhren is found chambers near Sirveleg,” he said, “I do not wish to cause more upset by keeping her in the harem this night.”

“Yes Adar,” the Prince replied, bowing his head.

“Inariel, take her to the healers,” Thranduil said, turning to face her, “I will join you there once I have seen to Dalla. Gwend…”

“I shall see to it that the children are safely returned to the nursery and their lessons continued,” she said, without any prompting. Thranduil offered her a satisfied smile before heading for the entrance to the pool.

Thranduil carried Dalla all the way back to the harem, sending Faelwen to fetch Anira who was busy with laundry. He took her to her room and finally lowered her to her feet. He didn’t move away immediately, staying close to her, his hands on her upper arms.

"We must remedy your inability to swim," he said, "I do not think I could bear to lose you, not when I know so little and wish to know so much." Dalla flushed pink under the intensity of his gaze and looked away. Those blue eyes blazed like fire when he thought about her struggling in the water, and it sent shivers down her spine to see it.

"Dalla," he said gently, one hand cupping her chin and turning her back towards him. Her heart fluttered. He truly was one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen. Her mouth felt dry, and her palms damp every time she looked at him.

“I believe we were interrupted earlier,” he said, his voice dropping low once more as he moved imperceptibly closer.

"Interrupted?" Dalla said as she breathed deeply, savoring another dose of earth and musk.

“Yes,” he said, his thumb tracing under her lower lip. His head dipped down and Dalla’s eyes closed. His warm lips pressed against hers as his hand slipped around to the back of her neck. Dalla remained perfectly still for the moment his mouth was pressed to hers. When he stepped back, he looked at her in wonder.

“I shall see you tonight at the evening meal,” he said softly before he left.

Anira came bustling in moments later, quickly sweeping Dalla through to her private bathroom. Dalla soon relaxed into the hot water, allowing Anira to clean and primp her whilst her mind wandered to thoughts of the Elven-King.

His kiss had been warm and soft as his lips melded with hers. Dalla would have called it perfect except it felt like something had been missing. She pondered more on it as Anira dried her off and applied scented oils to her hair, neck, and wrists, but could find no answer. Once she was redressed, Anira took her leave, and Dalla returned to her book.

  


_His hands slid down her body as his lips pressed to hers, over and over again. Desire flooded her veins as she felt him harden like iron. He lifted her and placed her upon the bed, divesting them both of their clothing as she sighed his name. He made them one, and her mind became blank with bliss._

  


Dalla sighed and tossed the book down. In stories, a kiss led to love-making, yet she had felt no such desire from the King. He had not pressed his body against hers, nor lifted her onto the bed. Had she done something wrong? Or were the stories so wildly inaccurate? But then, why would so many stories be written that way? She felt confused and frustrated. She had chosen to come here, to be part of the Elven-King’’s harem and she wanted to please him. So what had she done wrong?

As she wracked her mind trying to think why she heard the sound of Gwend returning. Gwend would know, she had known the Elven-King for millennia. Dalla rose to her feet and left her room, heading down to the door which had been open the night before. It was still partially open, and she could see Gwend moving around inside. She knocked.

“Gwend?” she called. The elleth opened the door and smiled.

“Dalla, I am pleased to see you have recovered,” she said.

“Yes, I...I have some questions,” Dalla said, “About the King?” Gwend nodded and stepped aside to let Dalla in.

The room reminded Dalla of her own. The furniture was of similar wood, but the soft furnishings were quite different. In Dalla's room, the cushions and bed coverings were all a royal blue color, depicting the stars. Here, forest green velvets covered most surfaces, bearing tree designs, twisted branches, and leaves. It all felt softer, more lived in, but Dalla supposed that would come with time.

“What was it you wanted to know?” Gwend asked.

“When the King brought me back today, he kissed me,” Dalla explained.

“Oh, wonderful!” Gwend grinned.

“Only, it didn’t...it did not...something was missing,” Dalla said, “All the stories I have read, both here and before I came, kissing leads to such passion, and today I felt...nothing.”

“Nothing?” Gwend said, “But how…”

“That is why I came to see you,” Dalla said, “Something was not right. And you said to come to you if I had any questions.”

“Of course, and I am glad you did,” Gwend said, moving closer and putting her hands on Dalla’s arms, “Now tell me exactly what happened; what did he do and what did you do?”

“He looked down at me, his thumb ran under my lip and then he kissed me,” Dalla said, “Only for a moment and then he left.” Gwend’s brow furrowed.

“That does not sound like the King I know,” she pondered, “He is very passionate.” She was silent for a few moments as she thought, lowering her hands.

"Dalla," she said after a while, "I want you to do something, but if you are uncomfortable, you can say no." Dalla nodded in understanding and Gwend took a deep breath.

“I want you to kiss me as you did the King,” she said. Dalla blinked silently for a moment.

“Oh,” she said, “Oh...I see.”

“Are you happy to do that?” Gwend asked.

“Yes, yes,” Dalla answered quickly, much to her own surprise.

“Alright then,” Gwend said, “When you’re ready.” Dalla nodded before hesitating.

“Will it help if I close my eyes?” Gwend asked.

“Perhaps,” Dalla said. She was nervous. She had never initiated a kiss, before today, her only kisses had been childish ones shared with boys during her adolescence.

  


She took a moment as Gwend closed her eyes. She could do this, and Gwend had already told her that she was comfortable with intimacy with females. Dalla raised up on her tiptoes slightly before leaning in and replicating her kiss with the King. Gwend’s lips were just as soft and warm, she thought as she pulled away. Gwend opened her eyes and looked down at Dalla, a look of surprise on her face.

“Oh, I see,” she said.

“What?” Dalla asked.

“The King restrained himself, I believe,” Gwend said gently, “He was unsure how far your innocence ran, and I believe I now know.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“Oh, my dear, you did nothing wrong!” Gwend said, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed, “Do you recall what we spoke about yesterday? About what the King expects from us?” Dalla thought for a moment.

“He wishes for us to participate,” she said slowly, “But I don’t…”

“He was waiting to see if you would move, actively kiss him back,” Gwend tried to explain.

“I don’t understand,” Dalla replied. Gwend sighed.

"Like this," she said. She leaned in and pressed her mouth to Dalla's again, only her lips did not remain still. They brushed against Dalla's in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Dalla found herself leaning into the kiss, mimicking Gwend’s actions.

“Very good,” Gwend whispered though she did not pull back. Nor did Dalla want her to. This felt like everything the stories had described. Her blood felt heated, and she couldn't help but sigh into the kiss. Gwend’s hand raised, cupping the back of her head, tangling her fingers in her hair. There was the briefest touch of something wet against Dalla's mouth, and on instinct, her lips parted. She felt Gwend’s tongue slip into her mouth to brush against her own.

Heat pooled between her legs as she recalled the kiss she had witnessed the night before. A whimper filled the air, and Dalla was surprised to realize it came from her as she wound her hands around Gwend’s neck. She should stop, but yet she couldn’t. She wanted more.

One hand trailed down over Gwend’s neck and chest before cupping her breast. Gwend gasped before leaning into Dalla, laying her back upon the bed and kissing her with renewed force. Dalla felt Gwend’s nipple harden beneath her palm and gently squeezed the breast she held. Gwend’s leg slipped between hers, pressing against her center and making her moan. Gwend suddenly pulled back from the kiss, her lips slightly swollen.

“We should stop,” she breathed, “The King would be furious if he knew...if I dared…”

“I understand,” Dalla sighed.

“I trust you enjoyed that?” Gwend asked. Dalla nodded.

“I think you may be like me,” Gwend said softly, brushing an errant strand of hair from Dalla’s face, “I think you may enjoy females as much as you will males. We shall see, I suppose.”

She leaned in and placed a single chaste kiss on Dalla’s mouth, unaware of the Elven-King watching from the door.


	6. Chapter Six

Thranduil watched as two of his harem disentangled themselves from each other. Gwend had overstepped the line. She was supposed to encourage her fellow ladies, instructing them, but this was a step too far. Dalla was his; and not for Gwend to taste out of turn. Yet his anger was dwarfed by the rush of arousal at watching them, hearing the sweet whimper from his newest concubine.

Had Dalla come to him more experienced, he would not have remained a mere observer. He would have gone to join them, encouraged them, taken them in turn until all three could do naught but lay sated. But no, Dalla was innocent in these matters, and despite the bravery, she had shown the night before, he doubted she would have welcomed his intrusion on this private moment. He swiftly turned and walked away before either female took notice of him.

He had returned to the harem to check on Dalla and retrieve his robe, only to find her room empty. Then he had heard her soft voice come from down the corridor, from Gwend’s room. Through the open door, he had watched them, entwined in an embrace and a kiss.

It was no secret he enjoyed watching two females together, even more, when he was involved as well. But to act in such a way with a newcomer, specifically one that Thranduil had not yet sampled, and without his knowledge was a grievance he could not allow to go unpunished.

However, his arousal failed to dissipate as he left the harem, the fresh robe he wore hiding all evidence of his current state from prying eyes. He had not felt an urge like that in quite some time, and as much as he tried to put the image out of his mind, it kept returning.

The tender touch of their lips, the slight glimpse of Gwend’s tongue slipping through to touch Dalla’s. Heavens, but he loved that woman! Gwend, the greatest gift fate had ever sent him.

Long ago, in a past Age, she had been everything to him and she remained his greatest love. He loved her with a passion that threatened to consume him. To have his request to wed her rejected would have broken him had he not been expecting it. She may have been Sindar, but she was of low birth, her father the Master-at-Arms to his father, and now also, to him.

No, his father had found him a suitable wife in the late Queen. She had been kind, understanding and patient with him. She had known of the bond between him and Gwend and knew it would not be easily severed. And he had tried, he had wanted to separate himself from Gwend, but he could not resist her.

He loved her, and he grew to love his Queen just as much. With that love had come the courage to speak his mind and ask for his desires to be satisfied. To bed them both at the same time, to have that memory to see him through eternity without Gwend by his side.

That night, Legolas had been conceived, and so had begun a fraught and traumatic pregnancy for his Queen. He never strayed from her side, but after Legolas' birth, she found herself with no desire for him. She did not want him to bed her or even touch her in a manner other than gentle affection.

He had tried; tried to contain his longing, his need for physical release. After months of frustrating loneliness and isolation, his Queen had told him to seek out Gwend.

  


_“I see in your heart the capacity to love more than one, and I know the other whom you loved before I. Do not let me keep you from her. Her love will calm you, satisfy you now when I can no longer. Take her as a concubine, and I shall call her sister.”_

So he had. He had sought out Gwend, and they had spent three days abed together until he was satisfied, and so was she. A beautiful friendship was born between the Queen and Gwend from that day, and often they were seen in each other’s company without him there.

The Queen had been delighted when Gwend had shared the news that they were awaiting a son, a half-brother for Legolas. He and Thangonnas had been firm friends almost their entire lives, playing together under the watchful eyes of their mothers.

When the Queen had passed, it had been Gwend who comforted both King and Prince in their grief, as well as attending to Thangonnas’ dismay and her own. She had been his rock, a crutch for him to lean on when it all became too much. He loved her more after that than he ever had before.

And yet, he was still unable to slake his thirst for the soft warmth of a female’s body. It had not been long after that he had met Inariel whilst out on a hunt, and the harem had come into being. Gwend had welcomed each new sister as the Queen had welcomed her, she had never put a foot wrong.

 

Until today.

 

His ire had not waned by the time the evening meal was ready, nor had his arousal. Unbidden, the image of Gwend and Dalla entangled in their embrace had been at the forefront of his mind, drawing his thoughts down wanton and lustful paths.

His erection now strained painfully against his clothes as he thought of seeing both of them at dinner, and it made both his patience and his temper short. He tried to calm himself, it would not do for his children to see their Adar in such a state, but the vision of his favorite and his latest addition morphed into something more erotic each time he tried to push it from his mind.

He had seen both of them nude, and with each desperate attempt to forget, garments vanished until he was left with only their naked bodies intertwined in passion.

His patience and temper both ran out on Lothiriel’s fifth attempt to sit on his knee as was her custom.

“I said no!” the words slipped from his mouth before he could rein himself in, resulting in a stunned silence around the table. Even Thangonnas and Tuigalen stopped bickering to stare at him. He slumped forward in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose as Lothiriel descended into tears and fled to her mother, Finnel.

The King felt ashamed. He had never given any of his children reason to fear him before, nor had they ever experienced his wrath. The older ones had witnessed it but had never been a target.

He remained head in one hand for the rest of the meal, determined to concentrate on the food before him and not the samples around the table that he wished to taste.

Fate, it seemed, demanded repayment for Gwend. First, Dalla leaned over to offer some comfort to his distressed youngest daughter, which provided the King a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage.

 

He swallowed dryly as he remembered the soft roundness of her breasts and how he had longed in that one moment to cup them, squeeze them, maybe even a taste. He looked away, determined not to think any more of that damned kiss.

His eyes fell upon Mae, dear, sweet Mae. So naive in many ways, but in others, a force to be reckoned with. She had met every request of his and then exceeded his expectations, from new positions in the bedroom to his suggestion they try for a child. She had become pregnant quickly, allaying the fear that the fault for Idhren’s inability to conceive lay with him.

He felt pained at the thought of Idhren. It had been so different when she had first arrived. He had fought alongside her late husband at the Battle of Dagorlad, her husband had pulled him from the battlefield when his father had fallen and been of great support in a significantly trying time.

When news had reached Thranduil of his death, he had extended an invitation to the ellon’s widow, to visit with him so that they might mourn him together. She had been exquisite to behold on her arrival, perfect in sorrowful beauty.

He had found himself inviting her to remain as part of his harem quite quickly, and she had accepted. They had been happy, but it had swiftly changed after Mae arrived some fifteen years later. She had become rude, spiteful even, especially to Mae.

When Mae's pregnancy was announced, Idhren had become withdrawn and she rarely now even spoke with him. She certainly no longer encouraged his attendance in her bed despite pleading with him for a child not ten years before. Perhaps it had been a mistake to make her part of his harem, an act born out of loyalty to her late husband and not of love for her.

The meal concluded not a minute too soon for Thranduil. His outburst ensured that not one of his children wished to bid him a good evening and he did not blame them.

Soon it was just he and Gwend that remained, the servants long since clearing away the plates and remains of the meal, leaving only a carafe of wine and two glasses. Gwend had filled them and lifted her own for a sip before she spoke.

“And what has you so irritated this evening?” she inquired innocently. Thranduil let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, casting his robe to one side, displaying his desire to her.

“Oh, well that does look uncomfortable,” she said softly, placing her glass down on the table, “And I cannot leave my King in such...hardship.” Thranduil pushed the chair back slightly as she lowered herself elegantly to the ground before him, a faint smirk on his face as he formed a cunning plan. He watched in silence as her delicate fingers pulled open the ties on his trousers, loosening them enough to release him from the uncomfortable confines.

He closed his eyes and sighed as she gripped his length and slowly ran her hand up and down. She leaned over and licked his leaking tip, earning a groan from the throat of the Elven-King before lowering her mouth over him. She hummed in satisfaction as she swirled her tongue around him. His fingers wound their way into her hair, guiding her as she suckled him.

"Oh, my love," he sighed as he felt her breasts brush against his thighs, "Your mouth is so sweet." His hips tilted slightly, and he moaned as he nudged the back of her throat. “Do you like it when I make you taste me?” Gwend hummed again in pleasure causing his cock to twitch beneath her tongue.

“I wonder,” he whispered, “If Dalla’s mouth was as pleasing.” Gwend paused momentarily before resuming her work, leaving his question unanswered.

He grinned and gripped her head tighter. Her hand brushed over his inner thigh and slipped inside his pants, fondling the round sac she found there. His other hand gripped the arm of his chair as she worked him more, her lips now brushing the base.

“I admire your dedication, my love,” he said as he stilled her, “But I require an answer.” He gently pulled her head back until his cock slipped past her lips with a soft pop and slapped his stomach with a satisfying thump.

“I…” she stumbled over her words.

“What?” he asked, smirking, “You tasted that which was not meant for you?”

“You saw us?” Gwend whispered.

"I did," he replied, "And I have been brandishing iron ever since." He heard her breath catch in her throat.

“How did she taste, my love?” he asked, quietly, his smirk disappearing.

“Like the sweetest summer fruits,” she replied, her eyes locked with his.

“And how did she feel beneath you?” he asked her, his hand slipping to cup her chin.

"Soft and warm, with a hidden fire," she answered as he began to draw her up towards him.

“If I had not stopped, she would have opened to me as the flower does the sun,” Gwend’s voice shook a little as she rose to her feet. They stopped, mere inches separating their faces.

“And if you had not?” he asked, his eyes moving down to her luscious mouth, “Would you have taken her? Would you have pressed your mouth to her cunt or would you have ridden her lips into sweet oblivion?”

Gwend’s mouth crashed forwards, locking onto his in a furious clash of lips and teeth. He pulled her onto his lap and crushed her against his chest, gathering her skirts up and out of the way. She rolled her hips, and he grunted at the feel of her slick folds against his cock.

“Ride me,” he growled, “Ride your King.” Gwend sighed as she reached between them, moving him into position before sinking down on him.

“So wet,” he rumbled, “Such bliss.” He tilted his head and ran his tongue along the delicate shell of her ear before nipping at the pointed tip. She let out a cry, her thighs gripping his waist, the mouth of her arousal squeezing his length. He cursed as she began to move, first rising up before dropping down, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Perhaps,” he panted, “Once Dalla is initiated, we should invite her to join us.” Gwend whimpered and increased her pace. “What would she desire first, your tongue, my fingers or…. Both?”

“Would you like that, my love?” he asked as he tugged at the lacing holding the front of her dress closed, “A sweet, wet, peach for you to taste?” Gwend’s hands fisted in his robe, and she continued to ride him. “Her breasts…” Thranduil moaned against her throat

“Tell me,” she grunted.

“They are perfect,” he replied, “Just like yours, luscious and round, begging for a mouth to suckle at them." He pulled hard on her dress, it opened quickly under his ministrations. He leaned Gwend back, exposing her breasts to him and latched on to the hardened nub of one. He groaned as he reclined, his mouth still on her breast, one hand coming up to squeeze it. Gwend wailed in pleasure as she rode him harder. Her juices flowing freely from her, but Thranduil cared not if his clothes bore the mark of their passions. He released her breast and kissed his way back up to her mouth.

“Perhaps you could taste her quim,” he whispered salaciously against her lips, “Whilst I use her breasts and mouth to complete me.”

“And I clean you both up after?” she whimpered, “Could I, my King? Please? Kiss her sweet quim until it cries for me? Lick your seed from her skin?”

“You will have my seed soon enough if you keep speaking to me like that!” he growled. His hands slipped below her waste. Pushing her dress up he exposed her softly curving backside to the cool air. He allowed her to ride him for a moment more before a slap came down on her upper thigh. She tensed for a moment in shock before resuming her previous pace.

"We speak of taking her cunt, and yet you took that which even I have not yet tasted," he warned her, "You took her mouth." Another hard swat, this time to the tender underside of Gwend’s buttock.

“Only to instruct her, my King, so that she might please you,” Gwend half-whined in protest, “Let me show you.” She cupped his chin, tilting his head back slightly before lowering her mouth to his. A tender kiss she lay upon his mouth, her lips brushing against his in a way that made his cock harden and swell within her.When her tongue swiped into his mouth and engaged his in a timeless dance, he felt her inner walls begin to flutter around him.

He slapped the fleshy mounds of her bottom this time making her squeal into their kiss. He did it again, slightly harder making her ride him with renewed force. A third strike had her almost screaming. He rose to his feet, bringing her with him and laid her out on the table, sweeping the carafe and glasses away as he did so. He parted her legs wide, exposing her to his gaze as he began to pump in and out of her.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, “All mine, my love.” He let go of her legs and leaned in to kiss her again, his hips bucking wildly as her legs wrapped about his waist.

“Tell me what you want,” he growled, “And watch that pretty little mouth before I fuck it.”

“You,” Gwend sighed into his mouth, "I want you, I want your seed. Please, my King, give it to me, and I shall never kiss Dalla again." Once more, the image of the two of them, bound in a passionate kiss and tender embrace filled his mind. His hips slammed into her, and with a strangled groan, his hot fluid spurted deep inside her as he continued to thrust. Gwend cried out, her sex milking him as her own completion washed over her.

They lay entwined for a few moments, panting from exertion until he kissed her, long and deep.

“I have no wish for you to never kiss Dalla again,” he said gently, “I only ask that you wait until I have had the pleasure of tasting her sweet mouth, and that, next time, I am there to watch.”

“Yes, my King,” Gwend replied, smiling as she felt him twitch within her, "Will you require any more of me this evening?" He grinned and pulled out of her. He helped her from the table, and together they redressed each other. The only sign of their encounter was the damp patch on Thranduil's pants, easily hidden by his long robe. He kissed her once more, his hand running through her love-messed hair.

“I will always need more of you,” he whispered, “But first, I must see to it that my youngest does not despise me for all eternity, now that I can think clearly again.” Gwend smiled and kissed her King.

“It pleases me that even after all these millennia, I can still drive you to distraction,” she mused, straightening his robe slightly.

“That you do,” he replied, “That you do.”


	7. Chapter Seven

Thranduil stalked down the twisting passageways that led to the nursery. He had been right; his head was much clearer now. No longer was he consumed by flaming lust and carnal desire. He felt calmer, more in control.

The nursery was hidden at the very center of his Halls, highly-trained and extremely loyal guards placed tactically along every conceivable route. Thranduil took the safety of his children very seriously.

He did not knock before he entered, so there was a moment of stunned silence before the nursery maids hurried to present the children. Even as they did so, little Lothiriel turned her head away and pouted.  
  


He cast his gaze over his young brood. Tuigalen was nearing her maturity and would soon be old enough to leave the nursery and begin her life as a lady. He reminded himself to find an appropriate tutor for her. As much as Gwend liked to be hands-on in regards to the children’s education, separate lessons for Tuigalen would prove one role too many, he was sure.

Beside Tuigalen stood Ceven, his youngest son by Gwend. The boy had a fine mind and would go far in politics one day, but for now, he was still a boy and a great source of pride for both his parents. Next to Ceven was Areth, his younger daughter by Vinga. Her attention seemed to be elsewhere, no doubt creating fantasy lands for her to play in. Finally, his gaze fell again to Lothiriel, still refusing to look at him. He dismissed the other children with a gentle wave of his hand and a smile before crouching in front of Lothiriel.  
  


“Now then, are you going to look at me?” he asked, gently. Lothiriel shook her head. She was acknowledging what he was saying at least.

"Look at me," he said again carefully. He reached out and touched her hand. She did not immediately pull it back, but still, she refused to look at him.  
  


“Areth,” he said, knowing it irked her when he called her by the wrong name, a frequent occurrence with eight children. She scrunched her nose up but still refused to look at him.

“Tuigalen,” he said, fighting the grin that was trying to spread across his face, “Legolas.”

“Ada! I am Lothiriel,” she said, stomping her foot as she finally looked at him.

“Of course you are,” he grinned, taking her tiny hand in his.

“You were naughty, Ada!” she said, pointing a small finger at him.

"I was," he admitted, "Adar had a trying day, but I still should not have shouted at you. Can you forgive me?"

“Hmmm?” Lothiriel mused, dramatically tapping her chin as if in thought, “I think you need to let me ride your Elk...six times. On my own!”

"Only if someone else is holding the reins," Thranduil countered, "He is a big Elk, I do not want him to throw you, and you be hurt."  
  


  


“Deal!” Lothiriel replied before throwing herself into his arms. She giggled and pressed her forehead to his.

"I love you, Ada," she whispered as if telling a secret.  
  


“I love you too, aewithen,” he replied in equally hushed tones.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw a maid approach.

“Forgive my intrusion,” she said, “But it is time for the little one to go to bed, my lord.”

"Attend to the others," Thranduil instructed as he rose, Lothiriel in his arms, "I shall see this one off to bed myself." Lothiriel whooped in excitement as her father half-tossed her over his shoulder and strode off towards her room. Once there, he helped her change from her day clothes to her nightwear and ensured she brushed her hair properly before setting her in amongst the blankets.

Quick as a flash, Lothiriel produced a book, seemingly out of nowhere and demanded a bedtime story. The King seated himself on the edge of her bed and proceeded to read to her the daring adventures sealed within its pages. She fell asleep before the chapter was done. He laid the book on the table beside her bed and ensured she was tucked in securely before leaving. He could hear the soft breathing of his sleeping brood coming from the other rooms, and could even hear Inariel murmuring softly to Mirima.

He waited outside the door for her. She looked calmer than she had earlier.

“How is she?” he asked, drawing her into his arms.

"You were right, just a bump," she replied, "The healers said it is nothing to be concerned about, though it could have been much worse." He nodded and leaned in to kiss her forehead. He heard her sigh in contentment when he brushed his lips across her cheek and she turned and met his mouth with hers. He cupped her head as he kissed her deeply. Now they knew no permanent harm had come to Mirima, he could comfort her.  
  


“My King,” she breathed as he pulled back.

“I will deal with Sirveleg, I give you my word,” he said softly, “It is...complicated.”

“I know,” she replied, “I felt your rage today in a way I have not in quite some time.” He leaned in and kissed her again, eager to make her forget his wrath lest hers resurface.

She had a fiery temper, his Inariel, and he loved her for it. He had felt it the first time they had met. His grief from the loss of his Queen had finally lessened enough that he could resume one of his favorite pastimes. His loyal captains and companions had organized a hunt within the forest, inviting all of his people who wished to accompany them.

The huge gathering of elves had allowed the King to disappear into the trees and seek some solitude. With so many different conversations whirling around him, none noticed that he no longer participated with them. He had allowed the sound to wash over and calm him before they started splintering off to hunt. The forest had been silent around him, and then he had spotted it. A young buck grazing on the tender shoots of the forest floor. He was huge, but Thranduil did not doubt he had only left his mother's herd a few summers before.

  


Silently, Thranduil notched his arrow his attention focused solely on his prey. Taking careful aim, he let his arrow fly, killing the animal swiftly. At the same moment, from across the glade, had come another arrow. Both had struck their target, the buck falling to the ground with a crash. He hurried over to claim the kill surprised when an elleth rushed forward to stake her claim as well. Her dark hair had gleamed in the sunlight as she flew swiftly to stand over the buck, hesitating when she saw the King.

“My King,” she had said, bowing her head low. He nodded, gesturing for her to be at ease.

“My lady, the kill is yours,” had been his reply, stepping aside so as to not block her path.

“No, it is not,” she had protested, “Your arrow struck first.”

“My lady, you may take this prize,” he had been sincere in surrendering it to her.

“I do not require my King’s charity!” Sultry eyes flashed indignantly, her temper had flamed before him, “I am more than capable of finding my own prize!” Abruptly she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the forest.

He had been struck by her pride and confidence and later when he had seen her hauling the fruits of her labor to the furrier, her strength… her wild beauty. He had approached her afterward, finding the hunt had quelled the fire in her blood and found her to be much more amenable.

She had dined with he and Gwend that night, and shared their bed for several nights thereafter before Thranduil had approached them both with the notion of creating a harem; to satisfy his physical and emotional desires whilst still leaving each lady who joined the time to pursue their own interests. They had agreed, and the harem had come into being.

The soft touch of her tongue against his mouth brought him from his thoughts, and he opened to her.  
  


“Have you need of me tonight, my King?” she asked when he withdrew,

“Not tonight,” he whispered, “Stay with our daughter if you wish, take care of her, I shall visit you another night,soon.” He kissed her again, long and deep, their tongues tangling in a slow erotic dance before parting.She returned to Mirima's room, and he began the long walk to the harem.  
  


There he found Gwend preparing for bed, brushing her long hair. After discarding his robe, his long fingers had closed over hers, taking the brush from her and taking care of the task himself. Gwend sighed and closed her eyes contentedly.

"How fares our brood?" she asked. The king smiled. Although five of his eight children had not been born by her, she still viewed them as if they were her own.

"All is well," he replied, "Lothiriel has forgiven me and Mirima suffers no more than a bump. Legolas and Thangonnas subjected each other to far worse." Gwend smiled fondly, no doubt at the memory of their eldest son and the Prince playing together when they were young.   
  


He set the brush down and placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles between her shoulder blades.

  


“The offer still stands,” he said, his voice low.

“Offer?” she inquired.

“Be my wife, as you were always meant to be,” he said, “Rule by my side. Our people love you, my children love you. I love you.”

“And be a bauble, brought out to be admired on special occasions?” she asked, “To no longer be considered wise counsel but viewed with suspicion if you heed my advice over others? Do not forget, my King, I watched what happened to our late Queen. My answer is no, I do not wish to be trapped in a gilded cage, forever your wife and nothing more." Thranduil sighed, and his hands slid down her chest as his thoughts returned to more carnal matters.  
  


“I would ask you that question a hundred times,” he whispered in her ear, “In the vain hope that on the hundred-and-first, your answer would be yes.” His hands slid over her breasts, gently gripping and squeezing. She moaned softly and tilted her head back as she savored his touch.

“Perfect,” he whispered as his hands moved to tug her nightdress down off her shoulders, exposing her to the mirror before her.

“You will have no need for that tonight,” he murmured.

  


*

  


He awoke late the following morning, far later than he usually did when visiting his concubines. He contributed his lazing to the satisfied and relaxing feel of Gwend in his arms, her head resting upon his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she stirred, looking up at him.  
  


"You are late," she rasped, voice still half-asleep. Thranduil nodded.  
  


“Yes, I must leave soon," he murmured, "Or my court will be up in arms." He rolled them over, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. One hand slipped between her legs, and she hissed slightly.  
  


“Forgive me,” he whispered, “I was too rough with you.”

“No, you were exactly what I needed,” she said, “You always are.” He kissed her again.

“Perhaps I should stay and tend to you,” he said, slipping between her legs, “Kiss away the pain.”

“Do that, and your court will never see you,” she replied as he kissed down her neck.

“My court can go rot,” he said, his lips trailing over her chest. He flicked his tongue over one rosy nipple, making her shudder and gasp. He closed his mouth over it completely and suckled until he knew it would be more red than pink, and glistening before repeating with the other.

  


He continued on his journey down, swirling his tongue over her skin, closer and closer to her center, her breath coming in pants…

The door opened, and a frightened squeak followed. The door slammed shut quickly. Gwend groaned.  
  


“Faelwen,” she muttered the name of her maid, “She must have thought you already gone.” Thranduil pulled back from her and crawled back to her face.

“I should be,” he whispered before kissing her again, “Fate is telling me to go.” He kissed her once more, rocking his hips into her core slightly so she could feel how hard he was before he pulled away. He dressed swiftly as Gwend rose and wrapped a robe about herself. She straightened imaginary faults in his attire before rising to press a kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“And I you,” he replied. One last searing kiss and he left.

Down the corridor, he could hear the low hum of conversation as the ladies broke their fast. A door ahead of him opened and Dalla emerged with her maid Anira.   
  


Anira spotted him first, pausing with a gasp and a quick curtsey before hurrying off to attend to her duties. Dalla paused, she seemed uncertain as to what she should do.

"I am just leaving," he said, "My day, however, will be dull, now that I have started it with your beautiful face." A pink flush at his words crossed Dalla's cheeks, and he smiled. He strode over, standing mere inches from her.  
  


“I am pleased to see you recovered, my lady,” he said softly, “We shall discuss swimming lessons for you later.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, resisting the urge to smirk when he heard her breath catch in her throat.

On impulse, he grasped her chin and gently turned her face to look at him before swooping in and stealing a kiss from her lips. She froze for a mere second before she responded to him, just as he had seen her do with Gwend the day before, her lips grazing his. He pulled back before it could deepen, enjoying the even deeper flush now spreading across her face. He smiled. Perhaps today would not be so dull after all.


	8. Chapter Eight

A few weeks passed, and the Elven King took naught but a few stolen kisses from Dalla, but they were less passionate than she had expected. She thought to be pushed against a wall or thrown onto her bed each time his lips touched hers, but he never did more than brush his mouth against hers tenderly, his hand softly holding or stroking her cheek with affection.

Dalla found herself growing frustrated. She expected more, she wanted more, and although one part of her was pleased he was not pursuing the prize between her legs, she was disappointed.

Each morning began the same, Anira would arrive as she woke, getting her bathed and dressed ready for the day. She would break her fast with the other ladies before they went about their tasks. Finnel lent her multiple books, some more risque than others whilst Mae painted. Vinga regularly attended to her own studies, and Inariel joined the King on hunts or tutored the children in physical activities.

Gwend was busy from morning until night, and Dalla quickly learned she had many roles to fulfill as the chief courtesan.

Not only did she ensure the ladies were all suitably dressed and cared for, she took charge of the maids when the occasion called, she planned the lessons for the children, aided the household staff in organizing events and feasts that the King planned. She ensured Mae never ran out of paint, Inariel’s hunting gear was kept in good repair, and that the library was always open to Finnel, Vinga, and Dalla. Some days, she would leave after breakfast, and Dalla would only see her at meal times until late at night, when she would hear Gwend return, often in the company of the King.

Dalla could hear them. Soft sighs and moans at first, then erotic screams of pleasure would filter down the corridor and into Dalla’s room. If not Gwend, then one of the other ladies, even Mae.

A week or so after Dalla’s arrival, Dalla had noticed a change in the young elleth. Her gazes towards the King had turned hungry and lustful, as Dalla had seen happen amongst women with child in Dale. The King had noticed too, it seemed.

Dalla had initially thought Mae had started her labor early from the cries she heard that night, but the deep groans of the King had told her otherwise. The sounds of the King making love to his concubines aroused her, and she briefly considered going to see if she could join them, but her courage would fail her as soon as she reached her door. And so, she would return to bed, a deep ache between her legs that refused to abate.

One morning, she awoke to find Anira carefully unfolding some new garments on the dressing table.

"Good morning, my lady," Anira said brightly when she saw Dalla was awake, "A gift for you from the King." Dalla sat up, curious as to what he had sent. Anira lifted the garments, a breast band made of green silk, and knee-length pants in the same fabric.

"I would say he intends to start your swimming lessons, my lady," Anira observed. She had relaxed enough in her role now to engage Dalla in friendly conversation whilst maintaining her position, and it pleased Dalla. She enjoyed the friendship of the fellow ladies of the harem, it did not feel as natural as it did with Anira. Perhaps it was because they did not have the overbearing presence of the King between them as it so often felt with Gwend, Inariel, and Finnel.

"I shall wrap these backup," Anira said, refolding the garments, "And then we shall get you dressed."

She was soon hustling Dalla from the bed and to the dressing table, moving swiftly about her tasks. Dalla smiled. Despite Idhren’s insistence that Anira was a poor maid, she had found she had no complaints about the elleth whatsoever. She worked quickly, efficiently and always had fresh ideas for how Dalla should dress and wear her hair. Dalla appreciated the efforts she made; what was fashionable in Dale could be looked upon with derision in the Woodland Realm, and Dalla did not wish to bother Gwend needlessly every day about something so mundane as fashion. Anira dressed Dalla in a light grey dress that was cut low across the back. Dalla admired the color, it matched her eyes, as Anira began tying her hair back in a long thick braid that fell nearly to her waist, a few strands left hanging to frame her face.

“There, my lady, what do you think?” Anira asked, looking quite proud of her efforts.

“I like it, very much,” Dalla said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my lady,” Anira replied happily, offering a hand to help her rise.

The other ladies were already seated at the table when Dalla joined them. She noted that Inariel and Idhren were still seated as far apart as possible. Idhren had remained away from the harem for over a week before being returned. An awkward apology from Sirveleg had been given to both Mirima and Dalla.

Thranduil had not seemed impressed by it, but the boy had done as he had been told, and had remained silent and still at his mother’s side at every meal and activity since. He kept his eyes down and seemed to try to shrink away whenever Thranduil or one of his sons was close by. It did not require significant effort to realize that Sirveleg and the King’s children did not get along.

Dalla pitied him, his father had perished at least a decade before she had been born, whilst Sirveleg had been a young child. He was now fast approaching adulthood and did not have his father to guide him. He had Thranduil, but the relationship was strained and would not be as fruitful as it could have been.

Dalla had learned of Idhren's husband from Anira and felt sorry for her too. She still tried to offer the hand of friendship towards the elleth, but it was only met with cold indifference. Dalla decided that she would need to be patient and keep trying.

The usual low hum of conversation filled the room. Today’s topic was the latest project undertaken by Tuigalen, Vinga’s eldest daughter, which had caused quite the stir in the Royal household.

She was currently expanding the number of herbs grown in the Royal garden, to supplement the supply produced by the healers in theirs. The young elleth had gone to the healers to find what they were struggling to keep well stocked. Evidently, one of the healers had given her the list of herbs used in the concoction that the ladies drank each morning to prevent conception.

The King had been quick to display his temper the day before, when he had been informed of this, and it had prompted a long conversation between himself, Gwend and Vinga. The King was none too happy about his daughter discovering the use of the herbs, although Tuigalen had been unaffected, it seemed.

 

 

Gwend quickly changed the subject when probed about what had been discussed.

“Dalla, I understand that the King will begin your swimming lessons today,” she said, looking over. Dalla nodded. “Yes, I believe so,” she replied.

“Oh, swimming lessons, how delightful,” Finnel squeaked.

“Delightful?” Dalla questioned.

“The King, semi-nude, holding you in his arms,” Inariel said, “What more could one hope for from such a thing?” Her smile was suggestive, her wink leaving no doubt what she alluded to.

"Perhaps to learn to swim?" Gwend cut in, "It is not the King's intention to seduce our new sister, he wishes to ensure that the last incident does not repeat itself." Idhren's fork dropped with a clatter to the floor, but she did not raise her head to look at any of the other ladies.

"I am pleased to be finally learning," Dalla continued, "I spent much of my childhood watching other folks swim in the river, wishing I could join them."

“The King has taught all his children to swim,” Gwend said softly, “He has steady hands to keep you safe.”

“Not all that steady,” Inariel chuckled, “Or he would not have dropped Thangonnas as a babe.”

“Once,” Gwend said, holding up one finger, “He dropped Thangonnas once.” Dalla tried to bite back laughter.

“How?” she managed to say.

"Legolas was just learning to climb," Gwend said softly as she recalled, "Thangonnas was still a babe in arms but prone to squirming when hungry. The King's attention was drawn away to the Prince, and Thangonnas chose that moment to squirm his way out of his father's arms."

“Was he hurt?”

“No, luckily, the King was seated at the time,” Gwend laughed, “Thangonnas landed on a cushion, but he did cry like he was being drawn and quartered. The Queen and I heard him from quite some distance away.”

“He landed on his head supposedly,” Inariel added, “Which would explain much.”

“He did not land on his head,” Gwend countered, “You, sister, had not yet joined, so I recall this story much better than you.”

“I am just telling Dalla what the common folk heard at the time,” Inariel said with mock innocence. Laughter echoed around the table as the ladies resumed their meal. Dalla smiled to herself as she tried to picture Thranduil with his two eldest sons. It was not hard.

She had seen the King many times now with his children. He was a caring, doting father who adored his children, that much was clear. The way he spoke to them all and held the little ones so tenderly assured her that he would allow no harm to come to her.

“ _I do not think I could bear to lose you, not when I know so little and wish to know so much.”_

His words from the day he had saved her in the pool echoed in her mind. He wished to know her better and yet, he seemed to be biding his time with unending patience. A deep feeling of frustration settled on her once more.

*

It was mid-morning when one of the female guards came in to inform Dalla the King was awaiting her. Anira accompanied her, carrying the bundle of garments she had been sent that morning. Dalla soon recognized the path being taken to the pool. Her heart thudded in her chest as she recalled falling into the water. The feeling of being dragged down by her sodden gown felt like a heavy weight on her shoulders, and she felt her hands start to shake.

“My lady?” Anira said as she noticed how tightly Dalla’s hands were clasped. Dalla froze and shook her head, her lungs screaming for air even though she took deep breaths.

"I...I cannot…" she mumbled, stumbling backward into a wall.

"My lady!" Anira dropped the bundle and seized Dalla by the arms before she could fall to the floor.

“Fetch the King!” Anira said to one of the escorting guards as she gently eased Dalla down.

“I...I...why is this happening?” Dalla gasped. She had been back to the pool since the incident and not been so gripped with fear.

“It is alright, my lady, just take deep breaths,” Anira said, placing a gentle hand on Dalla’s shoulder, “The King will be here soon.”

Sure enough, within moments, the King was striding towards her. His robe was fastened securely, but she could see he wore neither shirt nor tunic beneath it, the lower half of his legs were exposed, and he wore nothing upon his feet. He must have been waiting for her. When he saw her sat upon the floor, he moved more swiftly, coming to crouch beside her.

"Dalla, listen carefully," he said, his voice deep yet gentle, "I want you to take a slow, deep breath in through your nose. And when I tell you, breath out through your mouth. Now, in." One of his hands closed over hers, and she immediately opened her hands to grip his as she copied him, breathing in through her nose. His fingers felt strong and warm beneath hers as she breathed out with him.

“Close your eyes,” he said softly, “And concentrate on breathing.” Dalla closed her eyes, gripping his hand all the tighter as she did.

“Breathe in,” he commanded her, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand, “And out.”

For several moments, they continued, Thranduil gently commanding her when to breathe, and Dalla began to feel the fear melting away, and all she felt then, was the warmth coming from his skin against hers.

“Better?” he asked as her eyes opened.

“Yes, thank you, my King,” she replied. He rose to his feet, guiding her to stand with him.

"I understand that the thought of going into the pool must frighten you," he said, "But, be assured, I will not allow any harm to come to you. Nor will I release my hold on you if you do not wish it." Dalla nodded. He took her hand and placed it in the crease of his elbow, and they resumed walking to the pool.

As they got closer, Dalla felt the same fear begin to weigh on her again, but she closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing again. She needed to do this. If she learned to swim, then the water would pose no danger to her.

Once at the pool, Anira escorted her to a changing area, hidden behind a rocky wall whilst the King removed his robe. Dalla cast a glance back just in time to see the strong flexing of the muscles in his shoulders and back. She felt the same deep ache that she felt when she heard him with one of her sisters.

He was an impressive specimen, beautiful but still exuding masculinity. Dalla's thoughts remained on him as Anira gently stripped her of her dress and undergarments and redressed her in the green silk garments she had been sent that morning. Dalla felt nervous as they returned to the pool, even though the King had seen her in a state of undress twice before. The King was already treading water several feet from the edge as they approached. When he saw them, he looked Dalla up and down, a faint smirk crossing his lips.

“Thank you, Anira,” he said, “You may go. I shall see Lady Dalla back myself.” Anira nodded, curtseying to him before leaving. Dalla remained stood by the edge of the pool, watching as the King swam towards her.

“Sit,” he commanded.

Dalla lowered herself to sit on the side, hesitating slightly before dipping her feet into the water. Thranduil immediately pulled himself in front of her, one hand on the pool edge on either side of her. His close presence reassured her; she had nowhere to fall except into his arms.

“This first lesson will be the hardest, I think,” he said softly, “Getting into the water. I will lift you in once you are ready, and I will not let you go. Do you trust me?” Dalla looked up to meet his eyes. His gaze raked over her form, taking in the swell of her breasts within the band, the way her waist dipped in before flowing back out to her hips, his gaze finally moving back to her face.

“Yes, my King,” she said, “I trust you.” He smiled, bracing his hands either side of her and lifting himself partially out of the pool. He leaned in and kissed her gently. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Good," he replied, before easing himself closer to the edge. Dalla's legs parted allowing him to press against the side of the pool, his face remaining no more than an inch away from hers.

"You look as beautiful as ever today," he whispered. Dalla leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. She hadn't intended to be the one to steal a kiss, but she was glad she did. He returned the kiss, his mouth brushing against hers in a way that reminded her of her kiss with Gwend.

She let out a sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck as his head tilted. She felt one arm slide around her waist, pulling her into him before lifting her off the side.

 

Next thing she knew, she was in the water, arms around his neck, legs about his waist and her lips still on his. She froze when she fully realized she was in the water.

“You are safe,” he whispered against her mouth, “I have you.”

“It’s cold,” she replied, shivering slightly.

“We need to dip your shoulders beneath the water, to acclimate your body to the water’s temperature,” he said, pulling back slightly, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Dalla replied, subconsciously tightening her hold about his neck. He still had one hand on the side of the pool as he lowered them in the water. Dalla gasped as the water slipped up to her neck before he raised them again. Instantly, she did not feel as cold as he pushed away from the edge. He used his free arm to help keep them afloat, the other still held her tightly about her waist. She felt safe enough to release her legs from around him. His arm tightened around her.

“There now,” he said, “The hard part is already done.” Dalla smiled slightly, his mouth remained just inches from hers. Her eyes remained fixed on his lips, especially the full lower one. Her heart thudded at the feel of being pressed against him as they floated in the water together for a few moments.

“Do I frighten you?” he asked suddenly, drawing Dalla’s gaze back up to his eyes.

"No, my lord," she answered, "You are a gentleman." A feral smile spread across the King's face, and he leaned in close.

"I can assure you," he whispered, "I am neither a man nor am I gentle." He pressed a searing kiss to her lips, crushing her against his chest for a moment. Dalla's heart fluttered. He was certainly not gentle, and this kiss was more passionate than any other he had given her thus far, and she whimpered slightly as he parted from her.

"Lean back and relax," he said, "We are going to practice floating. I want you to talk to me as we do. Tell me about your family, your life back in Dale." Dalla nodded and began to lean back, the King gently guiding her until she laid in the water. She could feel his hands on her shoulders, ready to slide under her arms at a moment's notice. She took a deep breath and relaxed, enjoying the sensation of floating in the water. The King leaned his head over her; briefly, the damp ends of his hair brushing along her neck and chest before he drew back.

She began to talk, recounting details of her mother and father, her brother who had died of pox in his teenage years, what little of their lives in Laketown she could recall. Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling above them, memorizing the stalactites, like chandeliers of smooth white stone above them, and she felt herself begin to relax more.

She spoke of the formation of Bard's court and her father's place in it. He hadn't been raised to the highest position, but it was a respectable one nonetheless, and he had continued his good relationship with the former bargeman.

As a result, Dalla had spent much of her childhood within Bard's palatial home in the City and had many fond memories of Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda.

The water muffled her hearing, so she had no way of knowing if he was asking questions or even responding to her, so she continued to speak. She told him of her parent's passing. A bitter winter had taken them both and many others in Dale, but the foundling Kingdom remained strong under the Dragon Slayer's rule. As she finished her tale, she let out a sigh and lowered her gaze.

And then she spotted the King floating a few feet away from her. She hadn’t even felt him let go of her. Her heart seized in fear for a second before he was back by her side, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him as he chuckled.

“You did very well,” he said, “I let go quite some time ago.”

“You never said you were going to do that!” Dalla protested, eyes flashing. He threw his head back as he laughed.

“You would never have done it if I had,” he explained, “I am very proud of you.” He leaned in and kissed her, his hands pulling her closer against him. He did not pull back immediately from the kiss, his brow remaining against hers for a moment.

One of her hands slid down his chest to rest over his heart. She could feel the strong, steady beat beneath his skin and solid muscle. It was quick. And when she moved her leg, she felt her thigh brush against something heavy and solid between his legs. Her lips quirked into a grin when she realized he was affected as she was. Her hand slid back up his chest and neck to his head as she lifted herself to kiss him again. He returned it, his free arm and legs kicking out to bring them to the pool edge.

Dalla parted her lips as she felt him grasp the pool edge. He imitated the gesture and flicked his tongue against hers. She whimpered as he held her tighter and hauled them out of the pool with one arm. He laid her out on the hard tile floor and leaned over, kissing her again. Memories of her kiss with Gwend flooded her mind, and she whimpered, tilting her hips up in an unspoken plea.

“Dalla,” he growled as he laid one hand upon her knee, gently pushing until her legs parted. His fingers trailed up her leg to her exposed abdomen and finally her chest. Long fingers closed over one breast, gently squeezing as his tongue plundered her mouth.

“My King…” she breathed.

“Thranduil, when we are like this, call me by my name,” he whispered, tenderly gripping her flesh again.

“Thranduil,” she panted, “Thranduil, please.” Her legs parted further, enough to welcome his body between them but his response was to pull his mouth from hers suddenly.

“No, no…” he whispered.

“Why?” she pleaded, “I am ready!”

“Your body, yes,” he replied, his hand leaving her breast and trailing down over her stomach to between her legs, “That much I do not doubt.” Dalla whimpered as his hand slipped into the apex of her thighs, exerting gentle pressure on her center. Arousal flooded through her and her hips tilted into his touch.

“It is your heart and mind I concern myself with now,” he whispered before kissing her again, making her almost sob in desire, “There is much to teach you before I take the gift you so willingly offer.”

“Then teach me,” she said in as firm a tone as she could muster.

He pulled back slightly and looked at her, and she at him. His eyes had grown dark with desire, his lips were slightly swollen from their kisses, and the bulge between his legs looked almost painful. He groaned and leaned in for another kiss, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth for a moment before he began to trail kisses down her jaw.

"There are other ways to feel pleasure that do not involve me penetrating you," he murmured in her ear, "This will be your first lesson. Mutual pleasure." His hand withdrew, and she looked down to see him loosening the ties on her pants before doing the same to his own. He reached in and released his twitching elfhood which stood proudly to attention, pink and swollen.

"Give me your hand," he whispered. Dalla reached out, and he clasped it in his own, bringing it towards his twitchingerection.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, his eyes never leaving hers, her fingertips just brushing his aching flesh.

“Yes, Thranduil,” she replied. He kissed her tenderly before guiding her hand to wrap around the steely length of his cock. He gasped as her fingers gripped him tightly.

“Like this,” he groaned, moving her hand to gently squeeze and stroke him in the manner he enjoyed, “Just like that.”

His hand released hers, and she continued as he had shown her, squeezing as her hand descended the velvety-soft skin, releasing as she returned her fingers to the head. He kissed her again, tongues dancing as his fingers slipped inside her pants, over her mound and between the folds of flesh he found there. She cried into the kiss as she felt his fingertips press against the source of the ache she felt, slowly beginning to draw circles over the small sensitive nub.

“Yes, Dalla, very good,” he whispered, “Do not stop. Oh, my love, never stop.” Her hips tilted towards his hand at his words, his fingertips sliding down to her entrance. He pressed one against it and moaned.

“You are so wet,” he muttered, “All for me...if I were to take you right now, I would slip right in.” His fingers retreated back to her clit and resumed rubbing tender circles over it as she squeezed his cock tighter.

“Yes,” he encouraged her, “Yes, keep going.” Dalla moaned as she felt a tightening sensation deep within her. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw, her eyes, her neck, any part of her he could reach whilst strumming her body into ecstasy.

“Thranduil,” she panted, “I...I…”

"Keep going, I am so very close," he gasped, an aching desire in his voice. She began to moan and whimper uncontrollably as his hand worked faster between her legs. She felt him throb in her hand, fluid starting to flow from his tip, it's warmth spilling onto her hand. He let out a long, low moan, kissing her furiously as his hips jerked, his cock swelling and throbbing in her hand as several spurts of hot fluid splashed on her stomach.

His hand slowed and his hips thrust against her uncontrollably for a few moments. His fingers soon resumed their previous pace, making Dalla cry out until he kissed her again, muffling her. His tongue drew hers into an erotic dance until she felt the tension within her snap. White lights exploded behind her closed eyelids like stars, her whole body shuddered, and she felt muscles she didn't know she had clamping and releasing within her.

Thranduil rolled to one side, sliding his hand from her pants and his cock from her slackened fingers. He lay beside her as they fought to catch their breath. Dalla shivered, and he pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head as one hand skimmed down her back gently. She tilted her head to look up at him.

“I would say your first lesson was a success,” he whispered before leaning in to kiss her again, “I look forward to the next one.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realised I haven't been including translations of elvish words and phrases so I will be including them from now on.  
> Ada - Father  
> Naneth - Mother  
> Tithenmir - Little Jewel (Pet name for Tuigalen)  
> Thele - Auntie (I couldn't find an actual word of Aunt, so I adapted Thel-en-naneth which means sister of mother)

The King continued to tutor Dalla with her daily swimming lessons, though, much to her frustration, nothing more. Dalla found that typically, her instruction would end with her in his arms, his lips on hers. Thranduil still sought the company of his other concubines each night, but Dalla felt no jealousy.

He cared for her and her wellbeing, and she understood that he had no desire to rush her into accepting him intimately. He had a plan that she had no doubt was carefully arranged so that he would be sure they were both ready, and she was willing to follow his lead; however frustratingly slow.

She continued to observe his behavior with the other ladies, and his children and realized her initial perception of her role, and of the King, were wrong. She was not here to be some sexual plaything, used and tossed aside whenever her King desired. He loved each and every one of his ladies, and they loved him. His children adored him as well, and he obviously doted on them.

This was no extravagant boarding house for whores. The Harem was his family, one he had built as he desired, and loved and cared for as any other, Man, Elf or Dwarf would.

  


Thranduil thought of his ladies often, little gifts were regularly left at their breakfast table. It was evident that sincere affection and thought was given when choosing the gift given to each lady.

Dalla received books that told daring tales of adventure and romance, a blank notebook along with a quill and ink to write her own, and more wildflowers than Anira could find vases for. Gwend often received a single white rose, and on one occasion a delicate necklace, laden with the most exquisite Starlight gems Dalla had ever seen. Each stone was tiny but dazzled when it caught the light.

Inariel was often given wildflowers too and was delighted to find a fine hunting knife and beautifully decorated sheath left for her one morning. Mae received paints, brushes and rare, delicately-scented pink flowers. Vinga was gifted books on languages and wildlife, along with notebooks to record her observations in. Finnel found an ever-increasing stack of books, covering every kind of romance, from courtly to sordid, and delicate, sweetly scented bath oils that gently wafted through the harem whenever she used them.

Idhren too received flowers and gifts of jewelry in the form of delicate rings and bracelets, fashioned to look like vines and leaves twisting around her fingers and wrists, each made from the most elegant gold or silver. Dalla noticed that each piece was worn once and then not seen again.

One morning, a week after her first swim lesson, Dalla awoke to find a package left upon her dressing table. Anira moved about, putting away clean clothes and transferring worn ones to a basket.

“Good morning, my lady,” she said brightly as Dalla sat up, “Another gift from the King.” she chirped and handed her lady a freshly laundered dressing gown.

“Goodness, I do not think I shall ever get used to such treatment,” Dalla said as she rose from the bed and padded over to her dressing table. Anira gave a light laugh.

“The King is generous, especially to those he cares deeply for,” she said, “And, begging your pardon, my lady, but you have made quite the impression on him already in so short a time.”

  


“I suppose I have,” Dalla said, her thoughts slipping back to her first lesson. He had seemed to lose his control, kissing her and showing her how mutual pleasure could be achieved without the act of penetration. The memory of his cock, throbbing in her hand, aroused her, and she began to plot ways for a repeat performance, the sooner, the better.

  


She turned her attention back to the package before her, opening it to find clothing inside. Nothing as skimpy and revealing as the swimwear the King had previously given her. Inside was what looked like a dark grey skirt made of a hard-wearing fabric that she could not name. Curious, Dalla lifted it and shook it out, soon realizing that underneath the skirt was an attached pair of pants that went down to the ankle. In the parcel remained a matching coat.

“A riding skirt, my lady,” Anira commented when seeing Dalla’s confusion, “The horses here in the Woodland Realm are large beasts, larger than those in the stables of King Bard. Riding side saddle is not always possible on them, and impossible if the King were to take you on Araglar.”

“Araglar?” Dalla asked.

“His mighty Elk,” Anira explained, “The King often likes to take one of his ladies riding on the beast. I wonder if that is his plan for today.”

“He would not send the skirt otherwise, I would assume,” Dalla thought aloud.

"I shall go check with Lady Gwend once I have you in your bath if that would please you, my lady," Anira offered. Dalla nodded, happily following the maid into the bathroom and stepping into the sweetly scented steaming hot water.

  


Once Anira left, Dalla took the opportunity to allow herself to float in the water. The bath was large and circular, deeper in the center than at the edges. She and Thranduil had been working on holding her breath and putting her face in the water the previous day, but she did not want to attempt it alone, so she just lay back and looked up at the vaulted ceiling above her.

She wondered how she could convince the King to repeat his first lesson in lovemaking. It was no secret that he desired her, she had both seen and felt it. She searched her mind for ideas, something that would leave the Elven King at her mercy, that would loosen his tightly-held control. Then she remembered!

Her first night, the raw edge to his voice as he had watched Gwend and Inariel together, the lack of control in his movements as he had observed them love each other and he took his own pleasure. He greatly enjoyed watching the two elleth together, perhaps she could bring up her kiss with Gwend? The King might be aroused by the thought of her, and his Chief Courtesan locked in a kiss and an embrace.

She smirked as she kicked her way back to the edge of the bath before righting herself in the water. She was proud of her progress. On first arrival here, she would never have dared to venture from the safety of the edge, but now she knew how to float and move her body to where she wanted to be.

Anira returned a few moments later and helped her from the bath, drying both her body and hair before dressing her in the new riding outfit. Seating her at the dressing table, Anira set to work braiding her hair into a style practical for riding.

“Anira,” Dalla said carefully, “Lady Gwend’s hair always smells so lovely. Which oil does she use?” Anira hesitated.

“The jasmine, my lady,” she answered after a moment, “But I believe the rose oil suits you so much better.”

"No, I would like to try the jasmine one please," Dalla said firmly. She didn't like ordering Anira, but she was attempting to seduce the King, she needed everything to go to plan. Anira nodded half-heartedly, and Dalla winced a little. She really didn't like issuing orders, so she remained silent and composed as Anira anointed her hair with the jasmine oil before applying a little to her neck as well.

  


The rest of the ladies were just emerging for breakfast as Dalla left her room, accompanied by Anira who quickly hurried off to attend to her next duty.

Inariel raised an eyebrow as she took in Dalla's new outfit.

  


“Ah, going riding as well, I see?” she said, a salacious smirk on her face. Dalla felt her cheeks burn as she grinned. Inariel seemed to find ways the King could seduce a lady in any given opportunity, no matter how innocent. Her bawdy sense of humor had made Dalla full-body laugh on more than one occasion.

She had come to realize that the ladies she had known in King Bard’s court were far too solemn to enjoy the comparatively shorter lives they were given. The ladies of the harem were always laughing and smiling, there was never a dull moment. With the exception of Idhren.

Again and again, Dalla had offered the hand of friendship only to have it rebuffed. But she did not let it worry her. It would take time to befriend the elleth, she knew, and time is what she would give.

Arriving at the table, Dalla noticed that Vinga and Finnel too were dressed for riding and she felt disheartened. She couldn’t seduce the King in front of them, could she? She supposed that as the King’s concubines, they wouldn’t consider it improper for her to proposition him, but she would at least feel self-conscious.

The hidden door that was the servant's entrance opened, and the maids including Anira came in, bearing the breakfast plates. Behind them emerged Tuigalen, much to Dalla's surprise. She had not yet seen one of the children within the harem itself, as she understood it, they spent the majority of their time in the nursery unless they were pursuing other activities. Tuigalen carried before her a tray bearing five cups, and as the plates were placed before the ladies, she approached Gwend.

“ _Tithenmir_ , what have you got for us today?” Gwend said, smiling at Thranduil’s firstborn daughter.

“A new blend of your daily herbs, _Thele_ ," Tuigalen explained, "I think you will find it less bitter." She offered the tray to Gwend who took a cup before moving around the table. One by one, Vinga, Finnel, Inariel and Dalla took their cup and quickly downed it as was their custom. Dalla was surprised to find it not bitter in the slightest, in fact, it had a rather refreshing taste that seemed to wake up her whole body. Gwend looked around at the others and smiled.

“Tuigalen, I believe this blend has received unanimous approval,” she said, returning her cup to the tray the young elleth carried. Tuigalen beamed with pride, her hard work in the garden clearly starting to pay off. She quickly gathered the other cups and left through the main entrance whilst the maids remained behind to serve their ladies.

  


After breakfast, the ladies, barring Idhren, made their way out to the livery yard. Dalla couldn't help but smile. Each horse was beautifully cared for, an ellon carefully brushing their coat, cleaning their hooves and mucking out their stalls. There were horses of every color from purest white, through cinnamon, to chestnut browns and pure jet blacks. Their coats and manes shone in the sunlight, their heads bobbing as they ate their grains. In the large circular fenced arena, strutted a majestic elk, some twenty hands high, slowly making his way around the perimeter, whilst two or three horses were trotted back and forth across the length. Occasionally the elk shook his antlered head as he was led along by the King himself. On his back sat Lothiriel, who was clearly having the time of her life.

“ _Ada_! _Ada_! Can we take Araglar inside to live with us?” she cried, her hands reaching out to stroke the fine steed’s neck.

“I do not think the maids would take kindly to cleaning up after Araglar,” the King answered patiently, “Your brothers create enough work for them as is.” Lothiriel pouted.

"But, once we are done, you may feed him an apple," he suggested, to brighten his little one's mood. Lothiriel seemed to accept it, half bouncing on the Elk's back and clapping her hands. Carefully, the King led the elk over to the side of the arena and securely tied the reins he held around the fence post. He then stepped backward and tenderly lifted Lothiriel from the elk and sat her on the fence. One hand still holding her, he reached into the coat he wore and pulled out a red apple.

“Now remember, red apples only for Araglar, he cannot eat green ones,” he said as he handed it over. Lothiriel held it out for the elk’s inspection. Araglar sniffed at it before quickly consuming it with gentle nibbles at the young elleth’s hand. Lothiriel giggled as Araglar sniffed at her hair before her eyes fell on the group that now stood on the opposite side of the arena.

“ _Naneth_!” Lothiriel cried, scrambling from Thranduil’s arms and off the fence. She began to run across the arena.

“Lothiriel, stop!” Thranduil cried as one of the horses being ridden up the length was startled by her, rearing up. The ellon riding the horse tried to twist it away from the child who had frozen in terror but with little effect.

Dalla’s breath caught in her throat as the horse’s hooves began to descend. At the last moment, the King swept in, rolling his daughter out of harm’s way and into his arms. Lothiriel could be heard whimpering, her head buried in her father’s chest as he knelt on the ground, whispering to her.

The whole yard had stopped for a moment as they had watched in horror and now time seemed to catch up. Several stable-hands vaulted the fence, helping bring the startled horse back under control, whilst two guards who had been close by rushed to the King.

“My lord, are you alright? Is she injured?” one asked as Thranduil carefully rose to his feet, Lothiriel still wrapped in his arms.

“We are fine,” Thranduil said, “Lothiriel, I have warned you before about running around in front of the horses. You may be small, but you can still frighten them when they are new.” The ellon who had been riding the startled horse approached.

“My lord, I am sorry, I did not see her,” he explained.

“Be at peace, no harm has been done,” Thranduil reassured him as he made his way over to the fence. He carefully turned a still-crying Lothiriel over to her mother, who stroked her hair and whispered to her. Thranduil climbed over the fence and led Finnel a short-distance away. Gwend shook her head.

"That sweet child," she said quietly, "She loves animals, but I fear this will shake her confidence."

“The King has told her multiple times to stay next to him in the livery yard,” Inariel pointed out.

Dalla watched the King helping to soothe his youngest child for a moment before walking around the edge of the arena, towards the elk, Araglar. He was truly a magnificent animal, worthy of being the King’s steed. She could vaguely remember the elk the King had ridden at the Battle of the Five Armies. Araglar lifted his head and sniffed in her direction as she approached.

“I am afraid I have no apples for you,” she said softly, holding out a hand so that he might get her scent, “Though, perhaps when your master returns, he might have one more.” Araglar snorted but allowed her to rest her hand on his muzzle. The fine coating of hair was very soft to the touch but led to coarser hair the higher up she went. She looked up at him, intelligent brown eyes looked back at her, and she wondered how much he actually understood as she reached to stroke between his ears.

“Do not let his size give you the wrong impression,” a voice spoke from the other side of the elk, “He is a large beast but gentler than a dormouse.” A blond-haired guard appeared, leaning over the fence.

“Oh that I do not doubt,” Dalla laughed, “I may have been here but a month but I know the King would not allow his children to come to harm.” The guard smiled back. His face held as much beauty as any Elf, almost as much as the Elven King, Dalla dared to think. But he had a gentler demeanor, he was not as intimidating as the Elven King.

“You are Lady Dalla?” he questioned, “From Dale?”

“I am,” Dalla said, continuing to stroke Araglar’s nose, “And you are?”

“Rinion, my lady,” he replied, “I am part of the King’s Guard.”

“Does that make you his personal bodyguard?”

“It mostly means I keep an eye on Araglar when the King is not with him,” Rinion grinned, “An easy task as Araglar will only try to move if someone tempts him with green apples.”

“I thought I heard the King say he is not allowed green apples?” Dalla questioned.

“He is not, the wind from him after he eats them would end an entire army of Orcs,” Rinion commented, “So, naturally, they are his favorite, as forbidden things often are.” His eyes seemed to twinkle conspiratorially at Dalla as he reached to pat Araglar’s neck. The beast snorted and shook his head.

"Rinion!" The King's voice echoed across the yard, and the guard turned.

“Yes, my lord?” he replied.

“See to it that Lady Dalla is safely a top Araglar, we will be leaving shortly,” the King ordered.

“Yes, my lord,” Rinion replied before turning back towards Dalla, “My lady?” Dalla lifted her skirt and climbed over the fence, Rinion carefully grasping her wrist and arm to help her down. It was the first time since her arrival that another male had touched her, and it made her slightly uncomfortable at first.

Rinion guided her towards the elk’s side before kneeling down. Dalla looked up and saw there was a large saddle on Araglar’s back. She reached up to grab it and swallowed as she realized that riding the elk would mean the King sitting extremely close behind her. Perhaps it would work in her favor, she thought as she placed one foot in Rinion’s waiting hands.

She was so deep in her thoughts of being so intimately close to the King that she could not stop a surprised gasp when she felt Rinion’s strong hand on her thigh as he helped her into the saddle. An innocent touch that had felt intimate nonetheless.

She looked down at the guard who offered her a warm smile as he made sure her feet were securely in the stirrups before bowing his head and returning to Araglar’s front, whispering to the elk in Sindarin. Dalla smiled briefly to herself. Had she not come to the Woodland Realm to be part of the King’s harem, she might have enjoyed Rinion’s company. She flushed at the thought.

No! She was here for the King, not to ponder on whether other Elves would be suitable lovers and companions.

“Is Lady Dalla ready?” the King’s deep voice brought her from her thoughts.

“Yes, my lord,” Rinion replied.

"Good, then we shall be off." Rinion quickly untied the reins as Thranduil hauled himself up behind Dalla. There was less than an inch left between them, but he pulled her back against him regardless, his hand caressing her hip as he did so. Rinion handed the reins to Thranduil.

“Is there anything else you require, my lord?” he asked.

“No, just be here upon our return,” Thranduil said, “We should be gone no more than two hours.”

“Yes, my lord,” Rinion said, stepping back as Thranduil directed Araglar to turn and move forward. They made their way out of the arena, joining with the others.

Vinga rode an elegant white mare, Finnel was atop a beautiful bay, and Tuigalen had joined them, her horse sporting a stunning piebald coat of black and white. Several guards followed on black horses.

The guards formed a circle around the group, the ladies at the front and Thranduil behind them as they made their way out of the yard.

Close by, Gwend and Inariel stood, Lothiriel still red-eyed from tears but holding Gwend's hand. They waved farewell as the group left. Once out of earshot, Inariel leaned in.

“The elk ride,” she said quietly.

“He does enjoy the classics,” Gwend mused, recalling each time an elleth had been treated to riding with the King, “I do hope it goes better than Finnel’s.”

“Aye, a week without his touch whilst he recovered from her landing on his...well, it was a long wait,” Inariel chuckled.

“Indeed it was,” Gwend said, “I doubt it will be as sordid as Mae’s.”

“He did come back with rather a large smile on his face,” Inariel recalled. The pair laughed before looking down at Lothiriel.

“Not a word to your _Ada_ on this,” Gwend warned.

“Yes, _Thele_ Gwend,” Lothiriel replied.

  


Meanwhile...

“Tell me, Lady Dalla,” the King asked as they rode towards the walls marking the edge of his Halls, “Do you enjoy riding?”

"Oh yes, my King," she answered, "Though, I have not had much opportunity to practice." Whilst King Bard's stables were full, they were soldier's horses, bred for war, not recreation. And most equines otherwise within Dale's limits were large, working beasts that were used for plowing fields and hauling heavy loads. Only a few had horses for pleasure, and Dalla's father had not been among them.

“We shall see about you selecting your own steed soon,” the King continued as they made their way out of the gates and into the forest, “You will require one for our visit to Dale.”

“Dale?”

"Yes, a diplomatic visit is long overdue, I think," he said, "I have not seen Bard in quite some time, and I wish to thank him in person, for you." Dalla looked up and saw a broad smile on the King's face. She returned it and shifted slightly in the saddle, her rump pressing briefly against the apex of his thighs. She heard him inhale sharply at the touch but fought to keep her expression neutral. She heard him sniff again, this time much closer. He must have caught the scent on her hair and leaned in. A barely audible low rumble came from him, and she felt his hips flex against her. She bit her lip slightly as she felt him harden against her.

  


  


The group continued on their way along a well-worn trail through the forest. Vinga would point out various birds and question Tuigalen on their names. Tuigalen, dutifully, recited the various names in the dialects of the Elves, the various colors the species bore and speculated to the nesting cycle of each one. Finnel spent most of her time, admiring the lush greenery of their surroundings.

Occasionally, the King would lean in to whisper something in Dalla's ear, a critique of the area or a secret story. The feel of his warm breath on her neck made Dalla shiver and press back against him. He remained hard the entire time. Sometimes the trail would become uneven, and Dalla would grasp Thranduil's thigh although she did not doubt that Araglar was sure-footed and the King’s reflexes were fast enough that he would catch her before she slipped from the saddle.

Each time she touched him, she would hear him make a small noise of arousal, one hand leaving the reins to weave its way around her waist and pull her back more fully against him. She fought to remain silent when all she wanted to do was mewl and continue to rub her backside against his erection.

“ _Ada_!” Tuigalen’s voice had Thranduil drop his hand from Dalla’s waist.

“Yes, _Tithenmir_?” he asked.

"We are almost home, and I have much work to do, may we ride ahead?" Tuigalen asked. Thranduil was silent for a moment as he considered it.

“Very well, Antien, take the rest of the ladies and escort them home,” he ordered, “Lady Dalla and I shall return at our own pace.”

“Yes, my lord,” one of the guards replied, “Would you like me to leave someone behind?”

"No, we are close enough to my Halls for there to be no danger that we cannot outrun," Thranduil stated as Dalla felt a throb come from the straining flesh between his legs. The guard nodded, and the rest of the group picked up speed, heading back towards the Halls. Once they were out of sight, she spoke.

“Your forest truly is a thing of beauty,” she said. Thranduil made a noncommittal noise.

“Are you enjoying your time here?” he asked, one hand retreating from the reins to her hip.

“Yes, very much so,” she said, before taking a deep breath, “Everyone is very welcoming, especially Lady Gwend.” Her heart thudded in her chest as she felt his fingers briefly tighter on her.

“Oh?” he said, “How so?”

“Well, my King, as you know, my experience is rather limited,” she said carefully, “And I know that our first kiss disappointed you. Lady Gwend was very kind, and showed me how to improve.”

“She kissed you,” he stated. Dalla nodded.

Suddenly she felt his nose pressed against her temple, his lips on her ear. His breathing became ragged, and his cock was practically screaming for attention against her lower back.

“If you wish to play the game, little one, it would be best to know the rules,” he growled, “And the penalties for breaking them.”

“A risk worth taking, my lord,” she replied breathlessly, confidence pouring into her seemingly from nowhere.

"We shall see," he replied. His hand descended from Dalla's hip, and down her thigh before slipping under her skirt and trailing back up. Dalla tried to remain calm as his fingers blazed a trail before reaching the lacing of her pants.

He pressed gentle kisses to her neck as he worked to untie the lacing before slipping his hand inside. Dalla gasped, her back arching as his fingers pressed against her. He nipped at her earlobe, and the sensitive skin of her neck as his fingertips drew circles around the sensitive nub at her core. She moaned slightly, the pressure of his fingers and the steady movements of Araglar driving her to the brink very quickly.

She turned her head, and his mouth crashed onto hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth in a demanding kiss. She gasped and sighed into it, her hips rocking between his hand and his cock.

“My King,” she panted as he pulled back, “Please...I…” He kissed her again, bruisingly hard, deep groans emanating from his chest. She could feel it, the same ecstasy she had felt before was within her grasp. She rocked her hips into his hand a few more times as he pulled away from the kiss.

“It would be wise,” his voice whispered in her ear, “To learn the difference between bravery and foolishness, little one.” Just as she was on the cusp of release, he withdrew his hand. She gasped and mewled in disappointment, made all the worse by the sound of the King licking his fingers. Her heart continued to pound as the King chuckled behind her.

“That is not fair,” she protested, immediately regretting it.

“Nor are your games, little one,” he growled in her ear, “I know of your kiss with Gwend, I witnessed it myself, and Gwend received suitable punishment for it. I spared you because you are new, but do not tempt me to discipline you. You will not enjoy it. As for your hair, return to using the rose oil, I much prefer it’s scent on you. From now on, the jasmine is for Lady Gwend’s use only. I shall speak with Anira of this.” Dalla nodded.

“Would you like me to…” she started, reaching behind her to grasp his cock.

"No, I have other plans in mind for that," he whispered. He kissed Dalla's neck again, just behind her ear, a gentle nip of sharp teeth before straightening himself behind her as they approached the gates.

Once back in the yard, Dalla noticed Rinion directing the horses back into the stables before spotting them. He ran over on swift feet, holding the reins and Araglar steady as the King climbed down with ease.

“How was your ride, my lord?” he asked.

“Enlightening,” the King replied, “I trust the ladies have been seen safely back?”

"They have gone to the nursery," Rinion replied, "Lady Finnel wished to check on Lothiriel, and Lady Vinga is accompanying her daughters to the gardens. I am afraid all the guards went with them." Thranduil reached up to help Dalla down.

“No matter,” he said, “I will escort Lady Dalla back to the harem to change myself. See to Araglar.”

“Yes, my lord,” Rinion said, bowing his head. The King swept past him, and Rinion raised his head just enough to offer a sweet smile to Dalla. She smiled back, knowing she must look a sight, with the flush of arousal still on her cheeks. But no one seemed to notice, or if they did, they gave no indication. She suspected that it was expected after the King had been left alone with any of his concubines.

  


They made their way back to the harem, the King's arm at her back, his fingers tracing patterns over the swell of her hip and backside. She could practically smell the arousal coming from him, and she wondered which of her sisters would be receiving his attentions to relieve it.

As they approached the massive stone doors that led to the harem, even Dalla could hear raised voices. They were in fact raised enough that the guards were looking towards the doors rather than for anyone approaching.

“What is going on?” Thranduil demanded as they got closer. The guards jumped.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she said, “But it would appear that there have been crosswords between Lady Inariel and Lady Idhren.” Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes.

“Not again,” he muttered before speaking more clearly, “Very well, I shall deal with this. Dalla, you may have to wait until after the midday meal to change. I must speak with them privately.”

“Yes, my lord,” she nodded as he tenderly touched her cheek.

"Wait here, and I shall send Inariel out to join you when I have got to the bottom of this," he said before striding towards the opening doors.

  


Inside, Inariel and Idhren were circling each other like two wild cats fighting over territory.

“What is the meaning of this?” Thranduil’s voice made them both jump slightly, “I cannot go for a simple ride without returning to find you two at each other’s throats. What, pray tell, is the argument this time?”

“She says Sirveleg was made to apologize unfairly,” Inariel cried.

“That he was made to apologize to a baseborn….” Idhren started.

“Enough!” Thranduil cut them off, already seeing an argument going in circles, “Inariel, please join Dalla outside and go with her for the midday meal. I wish to speak to Idhren alone.”

“But…”

“I said go!” Thranduil’s temper flared. He was already frustrated from the games Dalla had begun to play and not being able to satisfy his body’s demands. He did not need this.

Inariel huffed and stormed towards the door leaving Thranduil to close his eyes and take a deep breath in an effort to control his rising anger.

  


He turned to Idhren.

“Sirveleg’s apology was the punishment I handed down," he growled, making her step backward, "If you found it to be unfair, you should have come directly to me, rather than complain in front of Inariel.”

"My King…" she started. Thranduil had had enough. He strode over to her and turned her, facing down the corridor towards the bedchambers. He took hold of her firmly and began to march her down the hall.

“As for referring to my daughter as baseborn,” he growled, pushing open her door, “It was you who came to me asking for a child.”

He pushed her inside. He was not rough with her, but nor was he gentle as he pushed her over the bed on her front. To Idhren’s credit, she did not struggle against him as he gathered her skirts up around her waist. He crouched down behind her and ran his tongue against the warm alabaster folds between her legs. She whimpered as he circled her clit with his tongue before thrusting it inside her.

But he was not thinking of Idhren, he was envisioning Dalla bent before him. He had not tasted her like this, much as he desired her. But he had touched her and longed to do more. It had taken all his self-control that day not to remove them both from the elk's back and find a suitable place in which to make love to her. He rose to his full height, looking down at the whimpering, writhing elleth before him as he unlaced his pants.

“You begged me for a child,” he said, “Here is your opportunity. I suggest you make the most of it.” He aligned himself and thrust deep inside her, letting out a low growl at the feel of a warm, wet body accepting him.

He thought of Dalla, of her bent and begging before him, the feel of her flesh in his hands, her auburn hair loose and wild. He felt himself throb at the mere thought of being buried in her warmth. Yes, that was it, this was how he could control himself around the mortal woman who threatened to rob him of his senses.

He could pretend, and slake his lust for her with other willing bodies. He began to withdraw before slamming back in again, making the elleth beneath him cry out. He began to thrust hard, taking every ounce of pleasure from her body he could.

The feel of her body opening and tightening deliciously around his length, the soft whimpers of a female being satisfied. It all washed over him, sending him towards delirium. He allowed himself low moans of desire as he pounded into her, the feeling running down his spine, telling him he was close. He began to mutter curses and praises as he edged ever closer. She cried out, her hips pressing back vigorously against his with each thrust.

"Yes," he groaned, "Yes...oh...Dalla." The whimpers beneath him ceased, and she tried to raise her head. Quickly he reached out, holding the back of her head so she could not turn to look at him as he made the last few choppy strokes into her. He came with a roar, throbbing deep within her at the thought of claiming Dalla’s body in this way. His climax lasted longer than he thought it would, his hips pressed against her ass as he whimpered slightly at the continued spurts of his seed within her.

  


When, at last, he could think clearly, he withdrew from her, a sense of shame at having used one of his ladies so selfishly. He turned away, quickly lacing his pants and straightening his clothes. He thought to say something but the sight of Idhren, laying still over the bed, his seed dripping from between her legs, filled him with regret. He instead turned and left, his remorse over his actions compelling him to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. It was a terrible lapse in judgment and control, one that would take a long time for him to forgive himself, and one that Idhren was loathe to forgive and would not forget.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for Thranduil's maid in this chapter! She's actually a character from one of my other fics in disguise ;)
> 
> Elvish in this chapter:  
> Ion Nin - My Son  
> Thele - Auntie  
> Adar - Father

Dalla tried to concentrate. It was a simple task the Elven King had given her; choose a horse, but she found herself distracted. The two horses were beautiful creatures, with smooth, shiny coats and long manes and tails that were perfectly combed. The creature between them, however, was the distraction.

Rinion stood there, the reins of the horses in his hands, his broad shoulders perfectly straight, his arms just tensed enough to show the distinct bulge of his biceps. A small half-smile graced his face as he watched her. Dalla felt a tiny shiver run down her spine. He was handsome, and she suspected, he was very aware of it.

The King's back was currently turned, and she could see Rinion raking his gaze over her. Her heart hammered and she fought to keep her face neutral. It had been a week since the King had told her of his plan to visit Dale, and now the start of the journey was upon them. Dalla was to choose the horse that would be hers for the remainder of its life. But the decision was made all the more difficult by the presence of the two beautiful males before her. She tried to focus on the horses. One was an elegant white mare, the other a light golden buckskin.

“Thangonnas,” the King spoke, “Which horse would you recommend for Dalla?”

“Well, both horses are healthy with no family history of defects,” Thangonnas began.

Thranduil circled around her, his gaze raking over her form. Her elegant curves were clad in a green riding garment, much like the grey one, he had gifted her the week before. It clung to her with perfection and his mouth watered to look at her. He was finding it as hard to concentrate as she was.

Dalla, in all her feminine beauty, stood mere feet from Rinion, who was undoubtedly one of the most attractive males in his guard. He stood just a few inches shorter than the King, but his frame was broad and defined with the muscles that came with being part of the guard. Thranduil was not blind, and he could appreciate the male form as readily as the female.

Thranduil looked back to Dalla, vaguely noting that Thangonnas had slowed down his speech. To her credit, Dalla was keeping her face relatively neutral though her eyes kept flicking back and forth over Rinion. Rinion, on the other hand, was not so subtle. He looked ready to devour her when he thought Thranduil wasn’t looking, but Rinion knew the rules.

Without Thranduil's permission, Rinion was not allowed to lay a hand on Dalla or any of the other ladies of the Harem, but that did not stop him from thinking about it. A brief glance into the guard's mind revealed he was thinking about the feel of Dalla's thigh as he had helped her onto Araglar.

The urge to harm Rinion in some way flared up quickly before he squashed it. He had known the guard for many years, and he trusted him to not act on his thoughts, lascivious as they were.

“As I was saying,” Thangonnas continued, “Both...have...very nice flanks….and...thighs.” Thranduil glanced over at his second eldest son. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he saw Thangonnas' head turned in a completely different direction, eyeing up the rounded posterior of the elleth who had recently been taken on to clean all of the horse's tack.

“ _Ion nin_!” Thranduil said, causing Thangonnas’ head to swivel back towards him and away from the captivating elleth, "You were brought here to offer your opinion on a horse, not admire the young fillies in the yard." Thangonnas' mouth twitched into a sheepish smile before he looked back at the horses.

"The white mare is beautiful, but her temperament would never work for Dalla," he said confidently, "She may look...pretty, but she will bite. I recommend you chose the buckskin, _thele_." Dalla nodded in response.

“I do not know a great deal about horses except how to ride one,” she said, “I will submit to your superior knowledge. My King?” Thranduil looked at her. Her beautiful grey eyes were fixed on him, a small but bright smile graced her face. He could not figure her out. She went from practically salivating over Rinion to looking at him with such adoration. He had not ventured into her thoughts yet, but he felt that soon he would need to.

“I trust Thangonnas’ opinion,” he replied to her question, “The buckskin will be a better steed for you.”

“Then I shall take her,” Dalla said, “Does she have a name?”

"Alfirin," Rinion answered her, "A good choice, my lady." The young guard flashed another smile, and Thranduil felt a pang of jealousy as Dalla returned it.

“Dalla, would you care to take Alfirin for a few turns about the yard before we leave?” he said, quickly drawing her attention back to him as he reached out to take the reins for Dalla’s chosen horse, “Rinion, return the other mare please.”

“My lord,” Rinion said, bowing his head before turning and leading the white mare back towards the stables.

Thranduil led the buckskin mare towards the center arena, extending his free hand towards Dalla as he passed her. She took it, his long fingers closing around hers. He casually ran his thumb over her fingers and noted the faint shiver down her back. He resisted the urge to smirk as he led her into the arena. He only released her hand to secure Alfirin to the fence before helping her onto the horse's back.

Thangonnas had been correct, the buckskin didn’t even flinch as Dalla settled astride her. As she took the reins from him, he allowed his fingers to linger for a moment over her skin before turning his mind to hers. It was always a thrill to peek into the minds of his ladies for the first time. Dalla proved to be no exception.

Almost instantly he was greeted with an image of himself, laid flat on his back in her bed, Dalla straddling his hips, their clothes suspiciously absent. He couldn't help but grin as he released her hands and stepped back.

She turned Alfirin towards the center of the arena, the image of Thranduil beneath her still in her mind. The King decided it was time for a little fun. Thranduil concentrated, keen to stretch some mental muscles he had not used in a while. He pictured Dalla, laid beneath him, her beautiful auburn hair spread out on the hunter green sheets of his bed as his body covered hers, his hips pressed firmly against her. Dalla's head raised slightly, and she looked to her left where he stood. He quickly retreated from her mind. Perhaps using his bed in her imagination had been a poor choice. Still, he noted as she began to trot up and down the arena, she was no longer thinking of the guard.

“Rinion,” he called without turning, “Have Araglar prepared.”

“Yes, my lord,” came Rinion’s reply.

Within a few minutes, his elk was walked out from the stable, and he strode over to it.

“My lord, word has come, we will be ready to leave within the hour,” Rinion informed him.

“Very well, see to it that Thangonnas is ready to go also,” Thranduil said, “I have noted that both he and the elleth from earlier have vanished.” Rinion winced but diligently turned and headed over to the stables. Thranduil swung himself up onto the elk’s back and trotted to join Dalla. Araglar snorted and shook his head as Thranduil matched their pace to Dalla’s.

“How are you finding her?” Thranduil asked.

“She is very well behaved,” Dalla noted, “But we have gone no faster than a trot.”

“I hope you would never need to go any faster,” he said, “We travel with a large entourage so the pace will be slow enough. It should take us three days to reach Dale once we leave.”

“How many of us will be going?” she asked. Thranduil paused for a moment.

“Fourteen,” he answered, “Plus guards, servants, a few dignitaries.”

“Goodness, I hope King Bard is prepared,” she said. Thranduil chuckled.

"I sent him a list of our requirements a week past," he told her, "I would not turn up with the whole brood without giving fair warning."

  


*

  


Dalla had never seen so many horses as she did when she and the King rode to the side of the main gate. Various wagons were laden with gifts for Bard and his people, tents for them to rest in, food, water, and other supplies. In one carriage sat Anira, Faelwen and three other maids from the Harem whose names she had not yet learnt. Each maid was seated upon a cushion atop her lady's trunk. Another larger wagon held the King's four youngest children and their nursemaids. Gwend, Inariel, Vinga, Finnel, and Tuigalen were sat astride their own horses just in front.

“I suppose this is where I take my leave?” Dalla asked. Thranduil shook his head.

“No, my lady, it is my wish that you ride towards the front with myself,” he said.

"May I ask why?" Before the King could answer, there was an outburst from the children's wagon.

"But I want to ride my own horse!" Ceven whined as he leaned over the side of the carriage towards Feredir. He looked on the verge of a full-blown tantrum.

“See this right here is complaining!” Feredir snapped, “I already said that if you do not complain for the rest of the day, you may ride with me tomorrow.”

“But Tuigalen gets to ride her own horse!” Ceven screamed, his face turning red, “I do not want to be stuck here with my sisters!”

“Feredir,” Thranduil spoke clearly, “Do not engage with him when he behaves this way. You will only encourage him.” Feredir turned away from his now hysterical brother.

“Feredir!” Ceven screamed.

“No, I will not have you now,” Feredir said, his voice loud and clear, “You behave no better than an infant, and in front of _Adar_ as well!” Ceven lowered himself down and sobbed as Thranduil and Dalla passed.

Ceven’s whining followed them for quite a distance to the front of the caravan.

“Ceven seems unhappy about being there,” Dalla said.

“Yes, he seems to think himself an adult already,” Thranduil mused, “But he has just proven he is still a child and until he can convince me otherwise, as a child is how I shall continue to treat him. Tuigalen has proven herself a competent rider and can be trusted to behave sensibly.”

“Why do I feel this rule came from Thangonnas?”

"Because it did," Thranduil grinned, "He fell from horseback trying to impress a maiden and was bedridden for weeks. But it did little to dissuade him from trying again."

"How many times did he fall from the horse?"

“Six I believe before he learned his lesson,” the King replied as they reached the front of the caravan.

"Will Lady Idhren and Lady Mae not be coming with us?" Dalla asked as she looked around.

"No," Thranduil replied, "Lady Mae cannot travel in her current condition, and she tires very easily. As for Lady Idhren…"

“I have noted that she seems upset with you, though I cannot imagine why,” Dalla spoke after he fell silent, “I noticed she left your most recent gift unopened.” Upset did not begin to cover how Idhren felt towards him at the moment, Thranduil knew, and Dalla was the reason behind it, though not through her own actions.

"Lady Idhren and I have had a disagreement," he lied, "This visit will give us both some time and space to think about what happened, and hopefully, upon our return, she and I can discuss it and find a way forward."

Moments after they had taken their place at the front of the caravan, Dalla heard two horses approaching at a fast pace. Thangonnas appeared on Thranduil’s other side, astride a dark bay horse who snorted and tossed its head. Next to Dalla came Rinion; his horse was a stunning dapple grey mare.

“Are we ready for the off?” Thranduil asked, with barely a glance towards Rinion.

“Yes, my lord,” Rinion replied, “Everyone is present and accounted for. I have a message for you from Lady Mae.”

“Oh, and it is?”

"Do hurry back," Rinion answered. Thranduil smiled at the thought of his lady, heavy with his child.

"She has little to fear." he said, "She is not due to give birth for two moons yet. I do not plan to be away for that long. Shall we?" He signaled to a guard just ahead of them who raised a horn and blew a long low note. From far behind them, Dalla heard another horn with the same note, and the front of the caravan moved forward. Thranduil followed close behind them, encouraging Dalla to keep her horse beside Araglar. Dalla's heart and stomach flip-flopped. She was going home!

  


*

  


The sun was beginning to set as the caravan slowed to a halt at the edge of the forest. Though Thranduil had said their pace would be slow, Dalla thought they had made good time. As the rest of the caravan slowed behind them, Thangonnas began to give orders to set up camp.

“If it were not for the ladies and children, we would continue through the night,” Thranduil explained as he dismounted Araglar, “But they cannot be expected to travel as soldiers do.” He approached Dalla’s side and reached up, easily lifting her from her saddle and down to the ground. She stumbled slightly unused to riding for so long, but he quickly caught her, his arms holding her safely against his chest.

"There now," he said gently, reaching up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. He smiled down at her and Dalla felt her stomach flutter and her mouth run dry. She wanted him to kiss her as he had not done so all day despite being always at her side. The backs of his fingers traced her cheek gently, and he certainly looked like he would. Just as his head began to lower, a shout came from across the campsite.

“My lord!” Thranduil practically growled as he turned away from Dalla and looked towards the ellon who was striding over, Gwend close behind him.

“Galion,” Thranduil acknowledged him, “What is it?”

"My lord, forgive me, but there seems to have been an error made," Galion said, "The tent for the ladies of the Harem is missing, as are their beds." Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment.

“Are you certain?” he asked as he opened them again.

"The maids have looked twice and are looking for a third time, but as the other tents are set up, the less likely it seems we will find them," Gwend explained.

“Gwend…” Thranduil started.

"I will fix this," she said, reaching a delicate hand up to give his cheek a gentle pat. "I will ensure everyone from soldier to King has a place to rest tonight, even if some of us have to double up."

"Thank you," Thranduil said, leaning into her touch, "The children?"

"Are all down from the carriage, Ceven has ceased behaving like an infant, and the maids are setting about preparing some supper for them," Gwend continued, "The kitchen tent is set up, the soldiers, guards, and maids will all be fed within the hour, ourselves within two."

“What would I do without you?” Thranduil smiled, reaching out and cupping her cheek.

"Starve most likely," Gwend teased, "Now, I must go and finish my task."

“Have you need of Dalla?” he asked. Gwend shook her head.

“No, my King,” she said, “She may remain in your company if she wishes.”

“Very good, I shall show her how we make camp,” Thranduil said, “Keep me informed.”

“Of course, my King,” Gwend said, bowing her head. Galion too bowed before his King and promptly followed Gwend.

"I thought today had gone rather too smoothly," Thranduil mused, "A missing tent! How could everyone have missed it?"

“Mistakes happen,” Dalla said, “People misunderstand one another or simply forget.” Thranduil chuckled as he pulled Dalla’s hand to rest in the crook of his elbow.

"You always see the bright side, little one," he said, "It is quite refreshing. Come, see how the Woodland Realm makes camp."

He led Dalla around the expansive campsite. In the center, soldiers were busily making ready Thranduil’s own tent. To one side of it was another that he explained was for the children to sleep in, on the other, a massive kitchen tent that already had wonderful smells drifting from it.

Around them in a circle were other large, ornate tents housing the dignitaries joining them, as well as Galion and Thranduil’s personal maid, Menelya, who Dalla had not yet met.

Outside of that were smaller, more everyday tents for the guards, soldiers and the maids accompanying them. Everyone was busy, but no one seemed harried. Several large tables had been set up in the center of camp, and as Dalla and Thranduil passed through, she noticed that guards and maids were sitting together, enjoying their meal which was being doled out at a blistering pace by the Elven cooks.

She saw Faelwen and Anira sat laughing with Rinion and a few of the female guards from the Harem. Inside the kitchen tent, she saw the nursemaids sat at a smaller table with the younger children and Tuigalen. They were just finishing their own meals, a large bowl of fruit in the center being eyed up by Lothiriel.

"We will be fed last," Thranduil explained as they circled the edge, "The guards and soldiers will stand guard through the night and need to be fed quickly so that they may take defensive positions within the camp and around its perimeter. The maids need to be ready to attend us as soon as we are done with the evening meal. It seems cruel to make them wait for us to finish before they can eat.”

“You are a far kinder master than our old one,” Dalla said, “I do not remember much from living in Laketown, except that we were always hungry.”

“Yes, I recall the old Master,” Thranduil said, “He was decidedly fat the entire time I knew him. I remember meeting Bard for the first time, he looked hungry, and not just for food, but for something better.”

“Is that why you supported his bid to become King?” she asked.

“Amongst other reasons," Thranduil smiled, eyes twinkling in the near darkness. Dalla looked ahead and saw Gwend approaching them, Galion walking towards the kitchen tent.

“Any sign of the tent?” Thranduil asked. Gwend shook her head.

"It never left your Halls," she said, "The horse pulling the wagon threw a shoe not ten feet out the gate. A messenger just arrived, there is a crack in the hoof, and they cannot reshoe him, nor is there another horse to replace him. Unless we turn back to go fetch the tent, we must make alternative arrangements."

"Going back would add a day and a half into our journey," Thranduil stated.

"Exactly," Gwend agreed, "But I have found an alternative. Myself, Inariel, Vinga, and Finnel can sleep in the children's tent, the beds are large enough that each mother can lay with her child. Tuigalen obviously will remain on her own. That just leaves Dalla.” Thranduil was quiet for a moment.

“She may sleep with me,” he said before looking toward Dalla, “If you are comfortable.” Dalla hesitated. It was one thing to have intimate encounters with the King, but to sleep in his bed, with him, was another matter entirely.

“I can assure you, my lady,” he said, his voice softer, “Nothing will happen without your full consent.” His hand reached out and took hold of hers as he smiled reassuringly at her. She took a deep breath and nodded.

“Thank you, my King,” she said, not failing to notice the smile that spread across his face.

  


*

  


Dalla's heart was pounding furiously as Anira helped her dress for bed that night. Thranduil was discussing something with Galion near the kitchen tent, though Dalla suspected it was a rouse to give her privacy. Her nervousness at this close proximity to the King had eased slightly when she had been informed that Rinion would be stood guard outside during the night.

It had now returned with a vengeance as Anira dressed her in a green silk and lace nightgown and she looked at the King's bed. It was large, easily half again as big as Dalla's own bed back in the Harem was. It made her wonder, as she looked at the detailing on the green brocade blankets, how big was his bed at home if this was the one for traveling.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Anira asked as she guided Dalla to sit on a stool.

“I...I am a little nervous,” Dalla admitted as Anira began to brush her hair, “I have never shared a bed before...and I…”

“My lady, may I speak with you openly and honestly?” Anira said gently. Dalla nodded. Anira crouched down beside her and placed one hand over Dalla’s.

“Do not be afraid,” she said, “The King is kind, and he is gentle. It is not the way of the Eldar to force themselves upon another. Until you say otherwise, the King will understand and respect your decision if you say no to him. You have known him merely a month, all of his ladies, as I know it, were courted for at least six months if not a year except for Lady Inariel.

I have seen how he looks at you, he cares for you. He wants you to be happy here.” Her fingers wiggled their way between Dalla’s and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“How can you know a King’s mind?” Dalla asked, “You are a maid…”

"And as such, Kings pay no mind to me," Anira explained as she stood up and resumed brushing Dalla's hair, "I can stand in the corner, and he never sees me. But I see him, I see all of you, and I watch, I learn. The King cares for you greatly, my lady. You will see."

Once finished with Dalla’s hair, Anira stood her up and led her to the King’s bed, silently pulling back the covers for her.

“I will take my leave, my lady,” Anira said, curtseying, “If you should have need of me, Rinion will fetch me.” She turned to leave.

“Anira…” Dalla called, making the maid stop in her tracks, “Thank you.” Anira looked back.

"You're welcome, my lady," she replied. Dalla swung her legs onto the bed and pulled the covers over herself before laying on her side, her head resting on the soft pillows. It was exceptionally comfortable, even compared to the luxurious bed in her chambers in the Harem. She closed her eyes as she pulled the cover tightly around herself.

She must have drifted off for she was awoken later by the feel of someone lifting the covers behind her. She gasped and lifted her head.

“Do not be afraid,” the King’s voice said gently, “It is I.” Dalla relaxed and lowered her head back down.

"My King," she whispered sleepily as the bed sagged slightly from his weight. She turned over to face him. In the dim light of the candles, she saw his face, a faint smile on his lips as he looked down at her. She felt her heart pound in her chest. Even in the low light, it was easy to see that he was one of the most beautiful creatures in Arda. And tonight, she got to share his bed.

Her skin felt heated at the very thought as she watched him settle himself into the bed beside her. The only sound was the rustle of the blankets as he made to lay near her. Anira's words from earlier resounded in her head, and Dalla found herself edging closer towards him. He watched her, his ice blue eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. Her heart was beating like a war drum in her chest as she watched him swallow and his lips part slightly.

“My King,” she rasped, her mouth suddenly dry.

"My lady," he whispered in return. She leaned forward the last few inches, and her lips met his. One of his large hands touched the side of her face as he returned her kiss tenderly. Dalla sighed in contentment as he continued to brush his mouth against hers. His fingers traced down her cheeks to her neck, fluttering over the thin strap of her nightgown as if he contemplated pulling it from her shoulder. It moved scarcely half an inch before his hand resumed its journey, skimming past the swell of her breast and down past her waist.

“Dalla,” he murmured as he squeezed the curve of her hip.

“Thranduil,” was her reply before his tongue peeked out to coax hers. He leaned into her, encouraging her to lay on her back as he hovered over her, one thigh between hers. His kiss grew more passionate, actively seeking her tongue to dance with his. His hand continued to trail down to the hem of her nightgown as the other tangled in her hair.

A faint moan from his throat was all it took to bolster Dalla's confidence. She tilted her hips, so his hand slipped beneath her nightgown and slid slowly up her thigh. She renewed her kiss with him, actively seeking his mouth as his breath hitched above her. She reached up and grasped his back as he nipped at her bottom lip. One of her hands slid down his back, and she moaned as she realized the Elven King slept nude.

“Would you care…” he asked between kisses, “To revisit your first lesson?” Dalla smiled against his mouth.

“Yes,” she replied, one hand slipping from his back to between them. She found him hard and ready, and he groaned as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. His hand passed over her thigh, his long talented fingers were quickly between her legs, tenderly stroking her folds but avoiding the sensitive knot of nerves at her core. She whimpered as she began to move her hand as he had shown her that day by the pool. He groaned above her, his mouth tearing from hers and trailing down her neck. He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him before kissing her again.

“Dalla!” He moaned her name, his hips tilting towards her hand. His fingers slid between her folds and found her clit, slowly drawing circles around it. She let out a long sigh.

"My King," she gasped as she felt her internal muscles clench, but he didn't seem to be able to hear her.

His moans and whimpers were intoxicating to hear and knowing that she was the cause made her proud. She squeezed him a little harder, and he cried out before kissing her again with bruising force, his fingers circling her with renewed vigor.

“Please,” she whispered against his mouth, “Please, Thranduil. I want…”

"I know," he replied, "Keep going." So she continued to stroke and squeeze, feeling him swell in her hand. She felt the urge to take him in her mouth, but she felt his fingers gently tug on her hair, tilting her head back.

“No,” he muttered as if he knew her thoughts, “Your mouth stays here with mine.” He kissed her, pushing his tongue between her lips. Her hips rocked into his hand as she felt the tightening begin, knowing that orgasmic bliss would soon be hers. The King was not far from his own judging by the flow coming from his tip.

"Dalla…" he moaned, "I...I am so close...I…" He let out a low roar, and Dalla felt his cock twitch in her hand as he came. He seemed disorientated for a moment, his eyes closed, his hand stilled. Pushing the blankets back slightly she could see his seed dripping upon his stomach, his cock still twitching.

Feeling brave, knowing that this had been her doing, she pushed on his shoulder. He fell onto his back, his hand slipping from between her legs. She slid down the bed and carefully licked at his stomach. The muscles beneath his skin twitched at the sensation of her tongue. She moaned a little. His seed tasted sweet. She lapped at another patch of skin, hearing the mighty Elven King reduce to whimpering as she cleaned him up.

“Dalla,” he managed to whisper as she drew closer to his still-hard member. She gently licked at his tip, savoring the sweet taste that flooded her mouth. He moaned, and she felt his hands seize her upper arms, dragging her along his body.

She now straddled him, biting her lip so as not to moan at the feel of his hard cock between her legs. His hands retreated to her hips, pulling up her nightgown.

“I promised to show you many ways to give and receive pleasure, do you remember?” he asked. Dalla nodded.

“This is another,” he said as his hands began to guide her hips to rock against him, gliding along the length of his cock. She tried to stifle a moan at the movement; it felt so good, to feel him hot and heavy beneath her.

“Do not hold back, little one,” he whispered, “I want them to hear you.” His hands offered gentle encouragement as her hips moved again. She sat more upright, her hands resting on his chest as she began to move. Her clit grazing along his length as she found her rhythm. Thranduil let out a shuddering breath.

“Yes,” he moaned, “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” she sighed in response, “Yes, so good!”

“Keep going,” he encouraged, his hands leaving her hips and trailing upwards. His fingers found the lacing at the front that held her nightgown closed around her body. He tugged at the delicate ribbon until it came loose. Dalla rolled her hips against him again, letting out another moan. She moved a little quicker and let out a gasp at the sensation. He was getting slick beneath her, she knew that was coming from her, she could feel it. Just as she could feel him gently tugging the thin straps from her shoulders.

One at a time, he eased her arms free from the nightgown until it was bunched entirely around her waist, leaving her top half beautifully exposed to him. Her breasts swelled at the cool touch of the night air, her nipples pebbling before him. He reached up and caressed one, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast as she rode him.

"Dalla," he sighed before lifting his head. He closed his mouth over one rosy bud and grinned at the delighted squeal that came from her lips. His hand reached up and gently squeezed one breast, his fingers rolling her nipple while he suckled at the other. He felt himself swell at the taste of her skin and the sensation of her arousal coating him. Oh, how he longed to take her! To roll them over and rid her of that pesky virginity once and for all.

She cried out and began to ride him harder. She was getting close, and he knew that he would not be far behind her again. The bed creaked beneath them at her movements. They were becoming sloppy, she was so desperately close, she was almost sobbing. One hand now clutched his head to her breast, so he lavished it with his attention, alternating between kisses, licks, and full on suckling before gently nipping at the skin along the underside.

"Thranduil!" she cried out his name as he pulled away. He sat up straight, one hand still guiding her hips, the other gently cradling the back of her head as he encouraged her to tilt it backward, exposing her neck.

He placed tender kisses from her jaw to her shoulders. He ran his tongue along her throat, savoring the feel of her pounding heartbeat before closing his mouth over her pulse. Dalla hissed and moaned at the feeling of his teeth sinking into her skin. She tried to ride him harder, the bed shifting noisily beneath them as he sucked on her neck.

He quickly moved on to another spot on her neck and then another, leaving deep purple marks on her pale skin. Even in his aroused state, he knew he was marking her for all to see, that everyone who had not heard, would see at least.

Dalla of Dale belonged to the Elven King.

Her body began to tense, and he worked his way back to her mouth just in time to kiss her as she came apart in his arms. She screamed into his mouth as her body shuddered. He could feel her undulating inside, her body desperately seeking something to pull in. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she clutched at him, desperately seeking purchase as her mind went blissfully blank. She cried out his name again as she began to descend from her high and he could not help but smile, she had come undone so beautifully for him. This was not something she would quickly forget, he mused as he wrapped his arms around her shaking body.

He looked towards the entrance of the tent as he held her. He could see Rinion’s reflection on a highly-polished metal jug. The guard had watched and listened as the King had laid claim to the woman who was now shaking in his arms. With the blankets still covering them, it would have looked as though the King had indeed taken her completely, even though he had not.

The screaming of his name would leave no doubt as to what had happened. Good. Perhaps Rinion would remember this the next time he considered even looking in Dalla’s direction, Thranduil thought. A sob drew his attention back to the woman he held.

"Dalla?" he said softly. She sniffed, and he turned his head to see fat tears leaking from her eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, concerned he may have done so unintentionally. Dalla shook her head.

“I do not know why I am crying,” she admitted, “I feel so alive and yet so drained.” Her hands began to shake.

"Oh, Dalla," he said softly, rolling them over, so she lay on the bed with him beside her. He gently hushed her, wiping away the tears while keeping her safely held in his arms. He kissed her gently, first on her mouth, then her nose, cheeks, and eyes.

He was by no means a selfish lover, and he knew when his partner needed a little comfort. He had seen it before when a female had experienced something new and intense. She needed him to hold her, to make her feel safe when she felt uncertain. That was his role as her King and as her lover, to take care of her physical and mental wellbeing. He drew the blankets back up over them to their shoulders and held her against him.

“Rest now,” he said gently, “You are safe here.”

“Thank you...Thranduil,” she replied quietly, her cheek resting against his firm chest.

“Sleep well, Dalla,” he whispered before kissing her forehead.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Menelya weaved her way through the guards who were on their way to the kitchen tent, intent on breaking their fast. The sun rose in the distance, and with it, the camp. She had already been awake for an hour or more, having had a quick meal of bread and fruit whilst dodging the various cooks who seemed to move in perfect accord with each other without looking but always managed to step on an outsider.

She had to rise early, for the first task of her day was to wake the King, and it would not do for him to be late. She knew he would still be asleep; she and the rest of the camp had heard it all the night before.

She passed a disgruntled-looking Rinion on her way in. He had stood guard all night, no one had come to relieve him, so he was undoubtedly weary and hungry. But he was none of Menelya’s concern. She turned into the tent.

 

The King's bed occupied most of the tent and the King himself seemed to fill most of the bed. He was laid on his front, one arm tossed over the waist of Lady Dalla as she slept beside him. His long legs stretched out, one foot poking out from under the blankets. Menelya approached his side of the bed, lowering herself, so she was almost knelt on the ground.

"My King," she said gently, "My King, it is time to rise." He grunted in response, his head turned to look towards her, his eyes blinking open. She bowed her head before rising to stand. She paused briefly when she felt his large hand skim up the back of her leg to her rear. She rolled her eyes slightly before reaching back and gently pushing his hand away.

It often took a few moments for him to collect himself after sleeping deeply and it was not the first time she had felt his paws on her. The touch was not unwelcome. She would have had to have been blind to not know the King was an attractive ellon who could have any female he wanted, elleth or otherwise. It also would not have been the first time they had taken a tumble on his bed, particularly if he was traveling without any of his harem. One of the perks of being his personal maid and a privilege.

 

She left the bedside and headed to the trunk in the corner to retrieve his clothes for the day. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw the King had raised himself up onto his elbow and was leaning over the sleeping form of Lady Dalla. She could see his long fingers were pulling her hair aside and tracing over the dark purple marks that littered Dalla’s pale neck. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to one.

Dalla squirmed and sighed in her sleep but did not awaken. The King sat up properly and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He looked towards Menelya who bowed her head in respect. Thranduil smirked.

“Rinion,” he spoke, his voice clear and firm. The guard appeared at the entrance to the tent, quickly casting his gaze downward when he saw the King’s nakedness.

“Yes, my King,” the guard said, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground as Menelya continued to move around the tent.

“Ensure that Araglar and Lady Dalla’s horse are ready the moment camp has broken,” Thranduil said as he stood and walked towards Menelya, a lewd smile on his face, “I do not wish to tarry any longer than is necessary.”

"Yes, my King," Rinion replied. Thranduil had his back turned, but Menelya saw Rinion raise his head slightly. The guard was looking on the semi-naked form of Dalla as she lay in the King's bed. He looked pained, and she guessed this shameless display was her King marking his territory with his newest concubine. She turned her gaze back to Thranduil.

“Black or silver, my King?” she asked, holding up two cloaks. Rinion turned and left quickly. Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

“He looked,” Menelya said, “What did he do to deserve such ire from you, my King?”

“He forgot his place,” was the King’s reply.

 

*

 

Rinion tried to keep his expression from showing how he truly felt at that moment. The King had been blatantly flaunting all night that he alone could touch Dalla, making her scream in pleasure, knowing full well that he was just outside.

To then be summoned inside for so trivial a task was beyond humiliating for Rinion. He had to stand there and see her, see Dalla, still asleep in Thranduil’s bed, stripped to her waist, love bites covering her neck and no doubt other parts of her body that couldn’t be seen.

The King knew; he knew that Rinion found the mortal woman attractive and was reminding him that he would never have her.

“Melhir!” he barked as he stomped across the camp towards where the horses were grazing. One of the guards almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of his name being snarled.

“Yes, Captain,” he said, standing to attention.

“See to it that the King and Lady Dalla’s steeds are made ready before camp breaks,” Rinion ordered, “I will be back shortly. If they are not….” He let the sentence hang as he headed for the tree line. Melhir nodded and quickly set about extracting Araglar and Alfirin from the herd.

Rinion did not stop until he was well within the trees and hidden from sight. He slumped backward against a large and ancient sycamore. As angry as he was at how the King had treated him, that was not what occupied his thoughts. Instead, it was Dalla.

The image of her laid in the King’s bed was...erotic. The pale skin of her exposed back, the half-hidden curve of her breast, the dip of her hip beneath the blankets. He could hear her cries from the previous night and could almost imagine her screaming his name, not the King’s.

For a moment, he stood still, picturing Dalla above him, riding him into ecstasy. His hands moved of their own accord, rucking up his tunic and pulling on the laces of his pants. His cock was rock-solid with desire for the mortal woman. He closed his eyes as his hand closed over his member and began to stroke.

He imagined he was sheathed within her body, his mouth biting and sucking at her throat, her jaw, her breasts in his hands as hers wove into his hair, her fingers skimming over the tips of his ears. She would be hot and wet, soaking in her desire for him as they slaked their lust for each other.

Maybe she would beg him, plead with him to give her his seed, implore him to claim her. He would roll them over, so she was laid out beneath him, totally at his mercy. He was barely able to stifle the yell that nearly ripped from his throat as he came, his seed splattering the nearby undergrowth as his hand slowed. He fought to catch his breath as he shoved his softening cock back into his pants.

He shouldn’t have done that.

If the King had cared to turn his mind to Rinion’s, his wrath would come full force upon him. Last night had been a warning and a reminder. He needed to keep Dalla at arm’s length, though it seemed that would be easier said than done.

Once he had straightened himself, he headed back out of the tree line. He knew what he needed to do. Keep his head down, not engage with Dalla and not draw the King’s attention. Melhir had successfully extracted Araglar and Alfirin from the large herd and was saddling the two, though he had left the stirrups on Alfirin far too low for Dalla.

He walked over and corrected it without saying a word before heading back into camp to break his fast, fighting to keep thoughts of Dalla from his mind. He had barely made it two feet into the large open circle at the center of camp when he heard his name being called. He looked up and saw a familiar red-headed Silvan elleth approaching him, though, for the moment, her name escaped him. She had various items of clothing tossed over one arm and a bowl in the other.

"Rinion," she said as she approached, "I saw you heading over to the horses, so I got you some food for when you got back. You have stood guard all night, you must be starved!" She offered the bowl to him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, stunned that someone had even thought of him when they had their own duties to attend to, “Forgive me, I cannot recall your name.” He took the bowl from her.

“Anira, I am Lady Dalla’s maid,” the elleth said, “If you will pardon me, I have to go wake her.”

“Of course,” Rinion said, stepping aside so that she might pass, “Thank you very much, Anira.”

“You are welcome,” Anira said before she trotted off towards the King’s tent.

 

*

 

Anira paused before entering the tent, double-checking she had brought everything her Lady required. She lifted her head when she heard a grunting noise come from inside. Surely not?

Practically the whole camp had heard Lady Dalla the night before, and Anira knew that Menelya had already gone in to wake him. Either he was taking his pleasure with Menelya as the rumors suggested whilst Dalla slept, or he was laying with her whilst Menelya waited.

“It is not going in,” she heard Menelya groan.

“Have you tried pulling it?”

“I do not want to stretch it too far!”

“Have you tried talking nicely to it?” the King chuckled. Anira peered around the entrance. The King was stood, dressed from the waist down whilst Menelya knelt before him, seemingly struggling with the fastening on his pants.

“If you were not my King, I would strike you for that,” Menelya grunted as she pulled on the lacing.

“And I think we have hit upon the reason none of your courtships have worked out,” the King replied.

“None of my courtships worked out because you scared them all away,” Menelya said, quickly pulling the lacing tight and tying it.

“Understandable, my dear,” Thranduil said as she rose to her feet, “I would be a difficult act to follow.” Anira could just make out a smirk crossing his face as Menelya flashed him a look.

“Those should hold for today, but unless you wish to enter Dale with certain….appendages on display, I would suggest….Anira!” Menelya almost jumped when she spotted Anira hovering near the entrance. The King turned and looked towards her as well.

 

Quickly, Anira bowed her head and curtseyed.

“Forgive me...I did not realize…”

“There is nothing to forgive,” the King cut her off, “I can only imagine how that all must have sounded.”

"As I was saying," Menelya said, "Those pants need to go as I have been telling you for months." Thranduil rolled his eyes at her words and flashed a quick smile to Anira before gesturing towards his bed. Anira blinked and looked over. Dalla was just beginning to stir, and she quickly set about waking her Lady properly.

 

*

 

It was almost mid-morning before the camp was ready for the off, and the King was obviously displeased by the delay. There had been some confusion as to what had actually caused the setback which was yet another source of irritation for the Woodland monarch. The caravan journeyed in silence.

 

The tension was almost unbearable for Dalla. The King was vexed and in no mood to engage in light conversation as she rode at his side. Thangonnas was at his other side and to talk across him would have been rude. Rinion rode to her right, but he seemed to be ignoring her, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead without so much as a glance in her direction or an acknowledgment.

She wondered if she had done something to offend him, but she could not think what it might have been. Perhaps he was embarrassed by the sight of the marks the King had left on her? Despite the high collar of her riding clothes, some of the bruised skin was still visible, evidence of the King’s passion.

She felt a smile tug at her lips as she thought of the night before. The feel of his skin against hers, his hands on her hips, his mouth on her throat. She hoped the tent went missing every time they traveled if that was what it felt like to sleep in the King's bed! He had been so tender with her and yet had unleashed pleasure that had left her shaking.

She was brought from her thoughts by the sound of singing. She glanced back over her shoulder. It appeared little Lothiriel could not stand the silence any longer and was now singing a cheery song. Dalla knew that the song was Sindarin though she could not decipher the words.

Soon, Areth and Mirima joined in with her, and then their nursemaids until practically the whole caravan was singing except for Dalla, the King, and Rinion. As the song ended, Thangonnas opened his mouth as if to start a new song.

"Do not dare!" the King warned his son, and Thangonnas quickly closed his mouth. A ripple of laughter emanated around them, and Thangonnas looked suitably sheepish. Conversation started amongst the others in the caravan, and the tension began to lighten.

“Do you not enjoy singing?” Dalla asked Thranduil her voice soft, hoping to gently provoke a conversation. He looked towards her, a tender smile on his face.

“Oh, I do indeed,” he replied, “But Thangonnas’ repertoire of songs are not suitable for polite society.”

“Oh?” Dalla asked, now very curious as to how a song could possibly be unseemly.

“Most of them involve fornication with barnyard animals.” The King replied, casting her a sideways glance.

“Oh!” Dalla squeaked, her face turning several shades of pink. She struggled to refrain from openly gaping at Thangonnas who was suddenly quite interested in the scenery.

Hearing the approach of another rider, Dalla turned her head to find the Prince had appeared on Rinion's far side. She bowed her head in greeting, and he did the same.

“ _Adar_ , I have found the cause for the delay,” Legolas said.

“Oh pray tell?”

“Melhir and Aranel,” Legolas said, “Shall we say, they took a stroll together?” He smirked just as his father did when something entertained him.

“Ah, I see they are still the latest diversion?” Thranduil said, “This has been going on for what? Six months now?”

“It would appear so,” Legolas replied.

“Tonight, I think myself, Menelya and one of the Captains will need to have a talk with them,” Thranduil said, “See to it that they are made aware of my summons.”

“Yes _Adar_ ,” Legolas said before turning his horse back towards the bulk of the caravan.

 

“Melhir is a lucky ellon,” Thangonnas observed as Legolas retreated, “Aranel is quite the….” He trailed off at the stern glance from his father.

“What?” Thangonnas asked with a look of sincere confusion on his face.

“Tell me, _ion nin_ , is there a maid in my household you do not have carnal knowledge of?" the King asked, his voice severe but a twinkle of merriment in his eyes. Thangonnas tilted his head as if in thought.

“Anira and Menelya,” he replied.

“Good, shall we keep it that way?”

“Not for lack of trying I must say,” Thangonnas said, a lecherous smirk on his face, “Menelya is fond of playing hard to get.”

“She is not playing. Menelya is my personal maid, and is off limits to even you,” Thranduil warned, all humor vanishing from his face, “And if Anira is as innocent as you claim, I would like for her to remain that way. If only to maintain the illusion I still hold some form of control over you and a modicum of decency in my Halls.”

“I shall endeavor to do my best, _Adar_." Dalla couldn't help but burst out in unladylike laughter, causing both father and son, to look at her with a curious expression.

"Oh, my King, every day it becomes more and more obvious that the General here is your son," she giggled. Thranduil quirked an eyebrow.

“Unlike my son, I have not bedded every female within my halls,” he said.

“That is what the Harem is for,” Thangonnas said, “I think I need one of my own.”

“Prove to me that you can keep and satisfy a wife and then I shall consider allowing you to create your own harem,” the King remarked, looking back towards his son.

“Oh that sounds too much like work,” Thangonnas grumbled, sending a brash wink to Dalla. She laughed again.

“It is good to hear your laughter, my Lady,” the King said, “It is like music to my ears.”

“As is yours to my own, my King,” she replied, “The silence earlier was intolerable.”

"Forgive me," he said, reaching out and taking one of her hands in his, "But when I give orders that are not met, my mood darkens horribly" his eyes never left hers. Lifting her hand, he placed a kiss to the back of it. His lips felt warm and soft against her skin, and she couldn't help but tremble at the thought of feeling his lips upon her that night.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish translations - coming soon.
> 
> A huge thank again to DeputyMom62 for continuing to be my Beta!

As the caravan stopped for the night, Dalla could not help but urge Alfirin a little further forward. They had reached a crossroads. Turning to the south, she could see the great lake; to the north, the faint glints of torches and braziers being lit outside Erebor and Dale, ready for the oncoming night. These lands were familiar to her, and with them came a sense of homecoming. She smiled when she thought of seeing the renewed city and the familiar faces within it.

“My lady?” the King’s voice made her turn to face him. He approached her on foot, his elk being tended to by two guards.

“I cannot wait to see it again,” she said wistfully before turning back to look towards Dale, “As lovely as your Halls and indeed your whole realm appears to be...they have not yet begun to feel like home for me.”

"Understandable," he said, offering her a hand to aid in her dismount, "Though I hope you will one day find them as much if not more your home than either Dale or Laketown." Dalla took his hand, and he reached up with the other to hold her waist as she dismounted.

“How are you finding her?” Thranduil asked, taking hold of Alfirin’s reins.

“She is a sweet and gentle soul,” Dalla said, patting the fine mare’s neck, “A wonderful horse for a lady.”

"Thangonnas, it seems, understands females of any species," Thranduil said before chuckling, "Come walk with me, we have made good time so the family will be dining together a little later." Dalla happily tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow, and he led the way into the camp, leading Alfirin on his other side.

  


As they approached, she watched Thranduil sweep his eyes silently over his people. Everyone seemed hard at work with their appointed tasks, but Thranduil appeared to be searching for something.

“My King?” Dalla said as he slowed, “What is it?” He blinked and looked down at her.

"Nothing, my lady," he said, "I was just looking….Rinion!" His head turned to the right, and Dalla spotted the guard as he was helping one of the nursemaids from a wagon. As soon as she had alighted, he hurried over, purposely keeping his eyes from Dalla.

“Yes, my King?” he asked.

“Take Alfirin and see to it that she is fed and joins the rest of the herd,” Thranduil commanded.

"Yes, my King," Rinion replied, bowing his head. Dalla noticed the briefest of glances towards her before he took the reins of her horse and led her away. Rinion's sudden indifference after being so attentive, felt both confusing and hurtful, and Dalla frowned as she sought a reason for it.

“My lady?” Thranduil said gently.

“Rinion has not looked me in the eye all day,” she said, “I...I do not understand it. He has always seemed so friendly and amiable but today…”

"Do not fret," Thranduil said reassuringly as he reached over and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear, "Rinion has thus far been allowed far closer to you than any other male guard has ever been to my harem. I trust him, and he is repaying that trust by maintaining a respectable distance. His earlier cordiality was to get you to trust him. It is not that he does not wish to be your friend, it is simply the rules I have put in place to protect you and your fellow ladies."

“Is that why you have a female guard for the harem?” Dalla asked as they resumed their walk.

“Indeed,” Thranduil said, “Well observed.”

"So why, Rinion?"

“I have known him his entire adult life,” Thranduil said, “He joined the guard at the same time as Legolas and Thangonnas started their military training. I trust him almost as much as I do them.”

  


He paused for a moment before looking at her again.

“I have assigned Rinion to be your guard whilst we are in Dale,” he said carefully.

“Oh, not one of the females?”

“The harem guards are trained to work as a unit, and are not as effective when working as an individual,” Thranduil explained, “I had the thought that you may wish to be alone whilst in Dale, visiting friends or such. It would make no sense to have several guards escort you when a singular one would do the same task as effectively and draw less attention.”

"How very thoughtful of you," Dalla said, smiling up at him. Her breath caught in her chest, just looking at his profile.

"If he does anything to make you feel uncomfortable, or behaves inappropriately…"

“I will tell you immediately,” Dalla suggested, “I thought you trusted him.”

“Rinion as a person, yes,” Thranduil said, “Rinion, as a male, not so much.” “Oh?”

Thranduil stopped and turned to face her, placing his hands on her upper arms.

“You are a very attractive woman, Dalla,” he said quietly, leaning in to rest his brow against hers, “I fear you will draw much male attention in your life, and I cannot abide any other male touching what is….mine. Do you understand?” Dalla nodded.

“I think your fears are without basis, My Lord,” she said, “I drew not a scrap of male attention before I left.”

“Aye, but now you are mine,” he whispered, “And males always want that which they cannot have.”

  


  


Dalla felt her heart flutter at how close he was. His thumbs grazed back and forth across her arms. Memories of the previous night flooded her mind; the feel of him beneath her, the way his hands had tenderly caressed her, the passionate kisses he had given her. As if he sensed her thoughts, his head descended the last few inches and his mouth caught hers in a sensual kiss.

One hand released her arm to come up and cup her head as he repeatedly brushed his lips against hers. Dalla found herself not caring that they were in the middle of the camp and that all, including his own children, could see them. He finally pulled back a little before leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“Tonight, I shall teach you a new lesson, one we will both greatly enjoy,” he assured her, his voice low with sensual promise, “But waiting will be such sweet torture. Come.” He stepped back, taking her hand in his and led her towards the very center of camp where his tent was almost ready. She fought to slow her pounding heart as he led her inside.

“Leave us,” he ordered the servants who were preparing his bed. They bowed their heads to him and quickly left. As soon as they were alone, he pulled her close, his fingers quickly starting to unfasten her riding coat.

“My King? I thought you said we would…” she started but stopped with a gasp when he pulled her coat open, exposing her bare chest to him.

"Oh, we will have to wait," he murmured as his fingers traced over her collar bones and up to her neck, "I just wish to see…" Dalla winced when he pressed against one of the marks he had left the night before. His palm flattened against her throat, and she felt his skin cool against hers.

"Forgive me," he said softly, "I did not plan to be so rough with you. Last night, my only intention was to hold you close if you so desired, but then you kissed me and all my plans just melted away into nothing. There now." He stepped backward, his fingers tracing over her skin once more.

“All healed,” he whispered gently, “I promise not to do so again.”

“But what if I enjoyed feeling you bite me?” she replied, “What if I desire for you to do it again?” The King groaned and leaned in to kiss her, one hand cupping her breast. His tongue pushed its way between her lips, making her whimper. He ripped his mouth from hers after a moment.

"I cannot," he growled, "I cannot bring you back before Bard looking like you have been mauled by some fell beast." She sighed, and he lifted her chin to look him in the eye.

“I wish you could see yourself as I see you,” he said softly, “So brave, beautiful, you intoxicate me far more than Dorwinion wine, and I would happily spend days abed with you, tasting your skin until you were covered by my marks. But, alas, I am King and have duties to attend to. You, Dalla, could topple kingdoms, you throw my plans into such disarray.”

“Topple kingdoms?”

“Aye,” he said, before leaning in to kiss her once more, “Given enough time, even mine.” He stepped back, quickly redressing her coat before turning towards the tent.

“I shall send you Anira, you will wish to change before we dine,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yes, Thranduil,” she replied. He paused, looking back at her once more. His eyes held a glint of some dark promise, a promise that she could not wait to see fulfilled.

  


*

  


Dalla propped her head up on her hand, watching as the King laughed. His head thrown back as he chuckled at the story his dark-haired daughter Areth was telling. This night, Gwend sat at one side of him, Thangonnas at the other. Lothiriel had relinquished her usual place on their father's knee to her older sister who had told them all an Elven children's story. She had to admit, she did not see how it was so funny, but supposed it had some hidden meaning for the Elves she sat amongst. Thangonnas and Legolas were sniggering behind their hands, some private joke clearly making it more hilarious. Even serious Feredir had broken into a grin.

“Wonderful, Areth, you have the making of a true story-teller, _olore_ ,” Thranduil said as he raised his wine glass, “I think you should speak with your _thele_ Dalla.” Dalla’s mouth quirked into a smile as he looked at her.

“Yes, Dalla, tell us, what stories do the Men of Dale tell their children?” Gwend asked.

“None so humorous as that,” she said before hesitating.

“Go on! Tell us!” Finnel said as she offered a cup of water to Lothirirel.

“Well, most of our children’s tales were cautionary ones,” Dalla said, sitting up straight, “The oldest one I can recall concerned the Woodland Realm.”

"Oh?" said the King, "Pray, tell."

"It was a warning, to not stray into the lands of the Elves because…," she paused.

“Go on, tell us what warnings do Men give their children?” Gwend asked.

“The story tells us not to wander in the Woodland Realm,” Dalla tried again, “Because the Elven King...eats lost children.”

  


The table erupted. Thranduil spluttered and choked on a mouthful of wine. The three eldest sons descended into hysterical laughter along with Tuigalen. The younger children looked horrified, and their mothers were equally aghast. Dalla sat still, staring at her lap, too afraid to look up lest the King be grossly displeased.

“Ada!” she heard Lothiriel exclaim, “You eat children?!”

"Absolutely not!" the King sounded horrified, "Where in Arda did the Men of Dale get this ridiculous notion from?!" The laughter from the older children suddenly ceased, and Dalla glanced up. Thranduil looked ferocious in his anger, though his glare was fixed on his second eldest son.

"Thangonnas," he said, his voice sounded menacing, and Dalla was eternally grateful his wrath was not aimed at her.

“It was a joke, Ada,” Thangonnas said, none of his usual brash humor, “I did not think they would be telling their children the tale three centuries later.”

“Three hundred years!” Thranduil snarled, lifting Areth from his knee and setting her down, “They have had this belief for three hundred years! Do you have any idea the sort of damage this could have done to…." He leaned back in his chair, observing his son, who looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Thank the Valar you chose the military," Thranduil growled, dismissing Areth with a wave of his hand. She quickly scampered back to the arms of her mother. Thangonnas looked suitably contrite for the first time that Dalla had ever seen.

“I dread to think what would have happened had you chosen politics,” Thranduil continued to grumble, “Go! Be gone from my sight! I do not wish to see you till tomorrow morning.” Thangonnas rose from his seat and began to leave the tent.

“Go speak with Daeron, you may relieve him from the latrine duty," Thranduil shot as Thangonnas retreated. The general paused for a moment, and it looked like he was about to challenge his father before thinking better of it, and he disappeared into the darkening night.

“I, eating children?!” Thranduil muttered, “How absurd! Dalla, come, sit next to me.”

  


Dalla rose and nervously made her way to the head of the table, sitting by Thranduil’s side. He set down his wine and leaned in as the servants gathered to clear their empty plates.

“Why did you not tell me?” he whispered in her ear.

“Forgive me, my King,” she replied in equally hushed tones, “I...I could not find a way to bring it up, and now that I know it to be false…” She was disturbed as the servants began to lay out the dessert course, Feredir happily accepting his brother’s serving in his absence.

“Ah, now here is something to brighten your mood, _meleth nin_ ,” Gwend observed, “Your favorite.” A broad smile crossed the King’s face when he saw the honey cake sat before him.

“Indeed,” he said, “I thought I saw the bread oven at work earlier.” He turned from Dalla and shifted his chair as close to the table as possible. The rest of the ladies and their children were tucking in with gusto. Dalla wondered if honey cakes were a family favorite. They were certainly the King's, she noted, as she heard him practically moan in delight as he bit into his.

She was pleased there had been something to take the edge of his displeasure. She had been considering his promised intention of a new lesson in pleasure that night and had feared he would withdraw it after discovering her people feared he would eat their wayward young.

The honey cakes did not last long, quickly devoured, leaving the Elven King to simply lick the residual honey from his fingertips.

“Delicious,” he declared as they all finished, “Far more so than any mortal child.” The adults at the table laughed.

  


Conversation broke out amongst the gathering, the mood considerably lighter than it had been moments before. Legolas leaned over to speak to Dalla.

“Are you looking forward to seeing Dale again, _thele_?” he asked.

“Yes, very much so!” she replied, “I have missed it more than I thought possible.”

“I look forward to seeing King Bard,” the Prince said, “I have not seen him in at least seven years. Does he fare well?”

“He has decidedly more silver in his hair now than he did seven years ago,” Dalla informed him, “But he remains as he always was, there is always much for him to do.”

“He must be in his sixties now,” Legolas observed.

"Sixty-three last fall," Dalla said, "But as hale, as he was at forty-three. Though he has begun to give his children the more tasking responsibilities on occasion."

“As he should, he has worked hard, and taking down a dragon was no easy feat,” Legolas said, “In his last letter, that arrived with you, he said that now Dale has been completed, he can turn his attentions elsewhere. What does that mean?”

"He wishes to restore Laketown," Dalla replied, "It has been repaired since the fall of Smaug, but it is a long, long way from its height. He wishes, last I heard him speak of it, for it to match Dale in splendor.”

"Dale had good foundations on which to build, and my father sent many a craftsman to help," Legolas said, "Laketown will take twice as long."

“I know,” Dalla said quietly, looking down.

“He will not live to see its completion,” Legolas concluded solemnly.

“Such is the way, but he has given his vision of it to his son and daughters,” Dalla replied, “They will see it done.” Silence stretched between them.

The King of Dale was now past his prime physically but had already outlived the life expectancy of a bargeman from Laketown. The move to Dale had improved the health and longevity of many people, and healers predicted within three generations, they would regularly live to a hundred or more years. Still, Dalla noted, a mere blink in the eyes of an Elf.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Menelya, who curtseyed to her King from the opposite end of the table.

“Menelya,” Thranduil said in greeting.

“Forgive the intrusion, my King, but I have Melhir, Anarel and Captain Feren outside as you summoned,” she said.

“Of course,” he said, “Allow me one moment and then bring them in.” Menelya bowed her head before retreating.

“Her timing is impeccable,” Thranduil said as he looked over his brood, “As I believe it is your bedtime, my children.” A collective groan came from all the King’s children.

“Not you two,” he shot at Legolas and Feredir who laughed, “You two were clearly complicit with your brother, or at least had knowledge of his antics. You may both join him on latrine duty.” Legolas and Feredir groaned again.

"Come along, little ones," Gwend said, rising from her seat, "It is time to say goodnight to your Adar."

The younger children rose too, and one by one made their way to the top of the table. They each wished their father a good night, accompanied by a sweet kiss on his cheek. In return, the King murmured his own wishes of pleasant dreams to them. Legolas and Feredir stood last and approached him.

“Good night Adar,” Legolas said before leaning down as if to kiss his father’s cheek also.

"Be gone with you," the King laughed as he swatted his eldest away, "You have not seen fit to do that in centuries." The two brothers laughed and headed out of the tent.

  


The King rose to his feet to bid the ladies of the harem good night, each one finding a kiss and tender embrace awaiting them from him. He left Dalla until last. Her kiss, she noted, lasted much longer than the others, and her embrace was accompanied by a gentle squeeze of her rear.

“Am I forgiven for keeping the stories from you?” she dared to ask.

“Perhaps,” he whispered darkly, “I shall consider it whilst I admonish the pair that caused our late start this morning.” Dalla moved to leave but found herself pulled back into his arms.

“Tell Anira to bring you your white nightgown,” he said, his voice now rumbling low in his chest.

“White?” Dalla asked, “I do not think I packed a white one…”

“You did not,” he smiled, “I had one made for you before we left. Anira should have packed it. Wear it.”

"Yes, my King," she replied. He released her, and she headed towards the entrance of the tent, casting a last look back towards him. He had pushed his seat back and was now reclining in it, one leg crossed over the other, wine in one hand. Anira was waiting just outside the tent for her.

“How was your meal, my lady?” she asked politely as she escorted Dalla towards the King’s tent.

"Enlightening," Dalla said, "Apparently, you are to bring me my white nightgown."

"Oh," said Anira, whose sudden flush even Dalla could see by the flickering torchlight, "Very well, my lady."

“There is also one more thing I would like you to find for me,” Dalla said, “But not a word to the King.”

  


*

  


The King was not as late returning to his tent as he had been the previous night. The sound of him arriving and undressing made Dalla’s heart pound as she fought the urge to roll over and watch him. She waited until she heard him climbing into the bed behind her before she rolled over. He lay on his side, one hand propping up his head.

“My lady,” he smirked.

"My King," she replied. She thought he would bend down and kiss her, but instead, he threw back the blankets to view her.

"Perfect," he said as he took in the short nightgown she wore. The white silk garment barely came to her mid-thigh and was wraparound in style, meaning it had a deep vee-shaped neckline that plunged to her breasts with two different sets of laces holding it closed...for now. She sidled closer, in an attempt to take the kiss she craved, but found herself stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

“There will be time for that later,” he said quietly, “But first, there is the matter of your new lesson. I had planned to teach you on how to receive this pleasure first, but I think as recompense for concealing those stories from me, I should be the one to receive.”

“My King?” she asked. He slid off the bed, reaching over and tugging her to him until she too stumbled from it and into his arms. She gasped at the feel of his arousal as it jabbed her in the stomach.

“You made a pleasing start yesterday,” he said, another smirk pulling at his lips, “However unintentional it was.”

“I did?”

“Yes, Dalla,” he whispered, “The feel of your mouth so close to my sex, I almost lost all control.” Dalla’s mind flashed with the memory of licking his seed from his skin before doing the same to his cock.

“Oh.”

“Tonight, you will learn how to service your King with your beautiful mouth,” he murmured, “And then I shall return the favor. On your knees." Dalla swallowed as she stepped back and then knelt before him.

As she lowered herself, she took the opportunity to admire the svelte yet defined figure of the King. Even in the diminishing candlelight, she could see the faint shadows that marked the fine muscles of his chest and stomach.

Once on her knees, she found herself level with his impressive Elfhood. It was swollen with desire for her, twitching as her breath ghosted over it.

“Start as you did last night,” he said, one hand reaching out to touch her cheek, “I shall instruct you on what to do next.”

  


Dalla nodded, licking her lips in anticipation. She lifted her hands, resting them on his strong, defined thighs before leaning in and gently licking the tip. The King moaned, the hand on her cheek sliding back to gather up her hair as she licked him again.

“Underneath,” he ground out. Dalla tilted her head and traced the tip of her tongue along the thick ridge on the underside of his cock. He let out a satisfying moan.

"Good, good," he whispered, "Now, open your mouth." She glanced up at him, her lips parting, and her tongue peeking out to wet her lips once more. He nudged the head of his length towards her mouth, and on instinct, she closed her lips around him.

Thranduil let out a low groan, his hips rocking slightly as she sighed around him. He tasted delightful, she thought, strong and masculine, like his scent. He seemed breathless above her so rather than waiting for instruction, she took more of him, sucking on his length as she withdrew.

“Oh, Dalla,” he breathed, “Yes, very good! Give me your hand.” She removed one hand from his thigh and felt him clasp it in his own before encouraging her to wrap her fingers around the base of him. She gently squeezed and stroked him in unison with her mouth, his hand guiding hers as he had instructed her before.

"You are a natural," he whispered in wonder, encouraging her to speed up her ministrations, "Relax your throat, I am going to take you deeper." Dalla felt his hand on her head, hold her firm as he pushed his erection further into her mouth. The head struck the back of her throat, and she made a noise of discomfort. He withdrew slightly.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, “Now, put that sweet mouth back to work.” She pulled back, his hand encouraging her to squeeze his cock, swirling her tongue around him as she did. She took him deeper.

“Harder,” he told her, “Yes, just like that! Oh, _melui nin_!" He groaned a low noise that sounded half pleasure, half pained, causing Dalla to look up at him. His eyes were closed, his lips parted as he panted in growing ecstasy.

"Yes," he breathed, "I am close! Oh, Dalla!" He wrenched her hand away and withdrew from her mouth. The hand in her hair tilted her head back as he let out a long, low whimper. She felt several hot spurts of his seed splatter her exposed skin and couldn't help but let out a whimper of her own.

  


For a moment, Dalla stayed perfectly still, watching him attempt to regain his composure. Once he seemed to be more in control, she stroked her hand down his thigh. His cock twitched again, and his eyes fell on her.

"Stand," he said, his voice soft. He held one hand out to her, and she took it, using it to support herself as she rose to her feet. Both his hands slid to her face before combing his fingers through her hair as he leaned in to kiss her passionately.

“Oh _melui nin_ ,” he whispered against her lips, “You are incredible!” He pulled back and looked directly into her eyes, his own flicking back and forth as if searching for something. He must have found what he was looking for because he dove in once more for another searing kiss as he backed her towards the bed.

Her legs connected with it and he bent slightly to lift her. Laying her down in the center of the bed he crawled over her.

He smiled down at her as she lay beneath him, trembling with anticipation that coiled low in her belly. Lowering his head, he kissed her jaw and neck tenderly. She felt the rasp of his tongue along her collarbone and gasped.

Moaning softly, he licked another patch of skin. She realized he was cleaning his seed from her! She shivered and whimpered at the thought.

After tenderly licking every drop of fluid from her chest, his mouth returned to hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth and enticing hers to dance with him. She moaned and clung to him as the sweet taste of his seed flooded her mouth. When he finally pulled back, he rested his brow against hers and whispered, "Before we are finished with your training, you will crave the taste of my seed."

He began to kiss her neck again as one hand grasped her leg, lifting it. Dalla mewled as he began to trail his lips down over her exposed chest, kissing and nipping at the skin. He nuzzled her breast through the silk, the tip of his nose grazing over her nipple.

He slid down the bed, pushing her nightgown up to her waist and pushing her legs apart. Brushing his lips against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and nibbling at it as he drew closer to her core, she reached down to grab his head, but he shook her hands off.

“Hold on to the pillow, _melui nin_ ,” he said softly, kissing her thigh as she lifted them. She gripped the pillow tightly as Thranduil continued to kiss her, switching over to the other thigh, making her moan and try to tilt her hips closer to him. He chuckled.

"So impatient," he muttered, gently biting the inside of her thigh, "Relax, little one, I shall give you what you desire." In the next instant, his mouth was on her, his lips pressed to her womanhood, and his tongue gently probing the small nub at the top.

Dalla whined, her back arching slightly as Thranduil's tongue descended to her opening and tasted her. He let out a low moan of satisfaction as he circled back up to her pearl, one hand snaking up to squeeze her breast through her nightgown whilst the other squeezed and massaged her thigh.

She made soft noises of arousal that were music to his ears as he parted her lower lips with his fingers and probed her deeply with his tongue, delighting in the taste of the juices that began to flow from her.

He did not break contact with her as he reached up to undo the laces holding her nightgown closed around her. First one set, then the other before releasing his hold on her to pull it open, exposing her to his hungry gaze.

His mouth left her and began to trail up her stomach, his tongue briefly dipping into her navel as he went, his eyes fixed on one breast as he went, his lips tracing higher and higher until his mouth closed over one hardened nipple. They both moaned. Dalla at the sensation of his lips and tongue tugging at her flesh, Thranduil at the sweet burst of flavor as he licked her flesh. He pulled back and looked at her. She flushed red under his scrutiny.

“Honey,” he said, half in surprise, “You anointed your breasts with honey.”

“I saw how much you enjoyed the taste and…” she stopped when he quickly leaned over her body and kissed her with bruising force. She gasped at the feel of his hard cock nudging insistently at her entrance, his tongue taking advantage of her surprise and pushing into her mouth once more.

Slowing after a moment, he pulled back, “Wicked little minx,” he growled against her ear, making her hips tilt up towards him. She rubbed herself against him, her body pleading with him to end her suffering and take her completely.

Looking down at her, he was enchanted by the site of her closed eyes, her open mouth forming a perfect 'O,' and the warm rush of her breath over his lips as she panted shamelessly beneath him.

She was desperate to take him inside her, for him to claim her as the one and the only male who ever would.

Letting out a low growl, he slowly crawled back down her body and shoving her legs as wide apart as he could he began slowly devouring her. She cried out, a carnal sound, just short of a scream, while he lapped at her before flicking her bud with his tongue. Looking up, he saw her watching him, her pupils blown so wide her eyes glittered like obsidian.

He reached up, gently caressing her breast and rolling her nipple. Her breaths started coming in short, whining pants as she lowered one hand towards his. Never taking his eyes from her own, he intertwined their fingers and felt her hips lift off the bed again.

Lowering his gaze, he closed his eyes and turned his mind to hers. What he found was a mad, cacophonous rush of sensation and desire that made him suck in a surprised breath.

He was greeted by visions of her riding his cock, and then his mouth before having him pound into her. He smiled at the wanton nature of his little vixens thoughts and pressed against the warmth of her sweet lips.

He felt her shiver, grinding her hips in an effort to push closer to his touch. Clasping his lips about her pearl, he gently probed her soaking core. Groaning at how tight she was and her struggle to impale herself on his finger, he carefully pushed his smallest digit into her and sucked hard. He pushed his intense sexual desire and need into her mind.

She came with a scream, her hips jerking violently as he teased her flesh to prolong it, intoxicated by the feel of her body clenching around his finger as he continued to gently pump in and out of her warmth.

He kept his mouth on her until her movements slowed and she became a limp panting heap upon the bed. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from between her still trembling thighs. His smile was positively feral as he crawled up her body, claiming her mouth in a kiss.

“More,” she whimpered against his lips.

“No, little one,” he replied, “Anticipation makes it all the sweeter.” She crossed her legs across his hips and attempted to pull him closer.

“More,” she whined again.

“Patience,” he whispered before squeezing her breast, “My wicked little minx, you must learn to be patient and rest, or you will be too sore to ride tomorrow.” He lay at her side, pulling her into his embrace, her bare skin against his, and held her until she drifted off.

  


*

  


Thranduil lay, relaxed against the pillows, one arm holding Dalla against his side as she slept. She had asked for more, and for a moment, he had considered giving it to her. He would have ridden into Dale, knowing that stained sheets were safely stowed in a wagon, declaration, and proof that he had finally claimed her completely.

He would usually court a female slowly, taking his time, but from the moment he had lain eyes on Dalla, he had known time was a luxury he did not have with her. She was twenty-five, with any luck she would live to seventy, maybe even eighty. A third of her life could have already gone.

His heart seized with fear that he might blink and she would no longer be at his side. His hand pressed against her and she murmured in her sleep, snuggling in even closer.

He had not lied when he said she made him forget all his plans. She did. All it took was a kiss, and he was ready to claim her in the most powerful and intimate way. He realized, whilst he had known and would undoubtedly know many females in his lifetime, he would be the only male she would ever know carnally.

He looked down at her. She might only be there for the briefest moment, he thought, but there would only ever be one of her. So he had to enjoy her whilst he could, like a shooting star in the night sky. She would burn bright and fast, but remain in his memory for all time.

He continued to watch her sleeping peacefully in his arms, her auburn hair standing out against his pale flesh as she nuzzled ever closer to him, her lips brushing against his skin. At the touch, he found himself speaking Quenya aloud, not under his breath, for the first time in centuries.

  


“ _Hortalë elen_.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my wonderful beta DeputyMom62
> 
> Elvish in this chapter:
> 
> Hortale elen - shooting star, lit. speeding star  
> Meleth Nin - My love  
> Hanar - brother

Dalla blinked several times before remembering where she was. A strong arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her against a warm, solid body. Long tendrils of silky platinum hair tickled her cheeks and the scent of damp earth, spice and musk invaded her senses. Thranduil.

She was still firmly held against his side, long fingers splayed out across her hip. Thoughts of the previous night raced through Dalla’s mind. Being on her knees before him, the sensation of his tongue rasping against her, the feel of him invading her with just one finger... begging him for more.

Dalla felt her skin flush and pressed her face into his side a little. The subject of her innocence, her virginity, was still one she was of two minds about. On the one hand, she feared the pain and the commitment that accompanied giving her body, completely, to Thranduil. It was a decision, a desire that once done, could not be undone.

But when she was with him, the feel of being held captive within strong arms while he brought such pleasure to her… All she wanted was to feel him inside her, for him to take her, slowly, intimately but with the passionate fire, she could see burning inside him.

Her King wanted her, she could tell. The dark flash in his eyes when she had asked for more had been visible to her even in the dim candlelight. He had been right there, perfectly poised to take her, all he would have had to do was push inside. But he continued to hold back, for her sake, she suspected.

“ _It is your heart and mind I concern myself with now.”_

  


Dalla looked up towards his sleeping face, eyes closed, soft lips slightly parted. He was far kinder than she had expected him to be. She had arrived, expecting to serve him in his bed immediately. But it had been more than a month, and the last two nights had been the most intimate.

She closed her eyes and let herself remember the way it felt when he touched her most secret places, the feel of his strong hands kneading her softness, his clever finger pushing past her velvet folds to gently stroke her core… Dalla sighed and pressed her now slippery thighs together in a bid to quell her rising desire.

Thranduil’s arm slackened slightly, and he groaned gently in his sleep. He shifted, rolling onto his back, the blanket settling just below his hips. She let her eyes wander slowly along the hard contours of his chest and stomach to where the blanket had very clearly started to peak

Lifting her head a little, she saw it was still dark outside and relatively silent, no one would be coming to wake them any time soon.

She lightly ran one hand down the Elven King’s solid abdomen, relishing the sensation of his muscles trembling and contracting at her touch, until her fingers brushed against his hardened cock.

His breath came out in a hiss, his length twitching slightly as her fingertips felt him leak for her. His arm loosened enough that she could slip free of both it and her open nightgown. Pushing the blankets back, she exposed his raw beauty in the ever-diminishing candlelight.

Without hesitation, she lowered her head and licked the weeping tip of his now fully erect cock. He groaned louder, his body tensing and thrusting gently as she closed her lips around him and suckled. Sweetness flooded her mouth, and he twitched between her warm lips.

“Dalla,” she heard him murmur in his sleep.

Twirling her tongue around his tip, she sucked again. He repeated her name, louder this time, and one hand skimmed up her leg to squeeze her flesh. He was no longer asleep, she realized, but she did not stop. She slipped one hand over his leg and fondled the heavy sac that lay between them. The King gasped behind her, gripping her thigh hard.

“Do not stop,” he panted, his thumb pressing into the soft folds between her legs. Dalla could only hum in pleasure when his nimble fingers lightly circled the little pearl he had lavished such attention on the night before.

She continued to work him, her hand retreating from between his legs to grip and stroke the base of his cock. When she eventually drew back for breath, he grabbed her hips with both hands and moved her to straddle his chest. It took a moment for her to regain her senses, which were immediately lost once again when she felt his tongue delve into her.

She squealed in delight, pushing her hips back towards him. He rewarded her with a gentle flick of his tongue across her sensitive nub. One of his hands skimmed up her spine as she lowered her head and took his tip in her mouth once more. She moaned and grunted as they worked each other. She alternated between stroking his cock and caressing his balls.

He moved his tongue from her pearl to her opening, gently probing her with the tip of his tongue. Dalla’s legs began to shake, her hips rocking erratically, she could feel orgasmic bliss within her grasp, her body tightening beyond belief.

Thranduil continued to devour her, moaning as her taste flooded his mouth. Suddenly Dalla felt the tension snap, white light exploded behind her closed eyelids, and her hips bucked back onto Thranduil’s mouth. She couldn’t help the moaning scream she released, her mouth firmly sealed around his cock.

The King’s entire body tensed beneath her at the vibration whilst his cock throbbed almost violently. She continued to rock back against his mouth, tasting the sweetness of his seed on her tongue and swallowing.

Thranduil sighed happily as they lingered in paying gentle attention to each other whilst descending from their high, each licking the other clean.

“That, I was not expecting, _hortalë elen_ ,” he whispered as she climbed off him. She returned to her previous place at his side, and he quickly enclosed her in his arms, laying on his side, so he was face-to-face with her. His hands brushed her hair back before he lowered his lips to hers, moaning gently at the lingering taste of his seed.

“What does that mean?” she asked, “Hortal…”

“It is just a term of endearment,” Thranduil replied, “One that shall be reserved only for you.”

“I like it,” she said gently, “I also enjoyed what we just did.” Thranduil’s salacious grin spread.

“As did I,” he said, “I would love to know where you get your ideas.”

“I was merely continuing my lesson from last night,” Dalla said, running her hands over his chest to his shoulders, “You changed it into a new one.”

“I suppose I did,” he said, resisting the urge to shiver feeling her hands move from his shoulders to his neck. Her fingers wove into his hair, the tips brushing his ears. He could no longer resist the urge. He shivered and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.

“Be careful, _hortalë elen_ ,” he whispered, “An elf’s ears are….particularly sensitive.”

“Does that mean you find it pleasurable?”

“Immensely,” he said, his voice dropping low as she gently ran her fingers over the pointed tip of one ear. He kissed her again, one hand tracing up her side before cupping her breast. He slowly began to trace around her nipple, making her gasp. He took advantage and slipped his tongue against hers. Dalla's back arched, and she moaned at the stimulation.

“This?” he asked, “Do you find this pleasurable?” Dalla could only mewl in response, prompting a smirk to cross his face. He leaned in.

“Do you think you could cum from this alone?” he whispered the question in her ear, feeling his arousal return. He rolled her onto her back, her legs instinctively spreading, welcoming him to lay between them. She could only whimper and nod in response.

Rocking his hips against her, he could feel how slick she was, ready and waiting to accept him inside her. He found himself facing the same internal struggle as the night before, whether or not to lay his final claim to her body once and for all.

It would only take a push at just the right angle, to break past that damned barrier. Then he could, and would, welcome her into his bed regularly, he could spend days and nights making love to her, filling her until she was begging him for his seed.

He moved and felt his cock nudge at her entrance; soft, warm, and wet. He moaned and kissed her deeply, feeling her arms encircle his neck. She wanted him, she wanted this. His hands skimmed along her thighs, lifting them to hook over his hips. He began to lower himself, the tip of his erection pressing against her. All he had to do was push through, push through that barricade. Dalla whimpered a little into his kiss.

He turned his mind to hers. She knew what he was doing, and whilst part of her was screaming in delight, another part of her was afraid, afraid of the pain, the implications that went along with it.

  


“My King?”

  


  


The sound of Menelya's voice calling brought him back to his senses. He pulled back from Dalla, who looked up at him. He could see in her eyes traces of fear, which left an unpleasant feeling in his gut. No, this was not the time and place for him to join with her. No matter how much her body seemed to welcome him in. He withdrew from her and climbed out of bed.

“Enter,” he said simply. A brief glance behind him showed Dalla had pulled the blankets back up her body before Menelya and Anira entered. Anira kept her eyes down and went to tend her lady. Menelya, on the other hand, was no longer visibly affected by his nudity and she walked with him towards the back of the tent.

“Did we disturb you?” she whispered as quietly as possible while she began to select his clothes for the day.

“Yes, but I thank you for it,” he replied. Menelya looked up at him, her deep blue eyes locking with his.

“You have saved me from an action I would have deeply regretted,” he explained, “I am forever in your debt.”

“Good, I shall remember that next time I wish for a raise in pay,” she smiled. Thranduil couldn’t help but chuckle at the brash elleth.

  


*

  


Thranduil had to admit, Dalla looked stunning in sky blue as she walked alongside him. The camp was up and bustling as some broke their fast and others broke camp. He trusted there would be no delays that day, the two Elves responsible for the late start the day before had been thoroughly reprimanded and warned to keep their carnal urges in check until they reached Dale.

“Will it take long to reach Dale from here?” Dalla asked him. He looked down at her, pleased to see that there was no longer fear in her eyes.

“Not long, we should be there by midafternoon,” he said, “Provided no one else decides to….what is that stench?!” Dalla clasped a hand over her mouth and nose as something foul blew on the wind. Her eyes watered as she spotted Thangonnas storming towards them, Legolas and Feredir close behind. Moments later, she saw the dark brown streaks on his clothes and skin, and she realized….the smell was coming from him.

“Do I even want to know?” Thranduil asked, grimacing at the stench.

“Someone,” Thangonnas said as he cast a glance towards his brothers, “Thought it was funny to push me in the latrine pit.”

"Pushed you?" Thranduil queried one dark eyebrow raising.

"He was not pushed, he was not looking where he was going and fell in," Legolas said, with Feredir nodding in agreement.

“Really? Because it felt like two hands touched my back mere moments before I found myself in there,” Thangonnas spat.

“Perhaps one of the maids was repaying the favor, and groping you in the dark,” Feredir suggested as he barely contained his laughter. Thangonnas turned to face his younger brother.

“You seem to find this remarkably funny, _hanar_ ,” he snarled. Feredir laughed again, then seeing the murderous look in his brother's eyes abruptly stopped. Before Thranduil could even open his mouth to speak, Thangonnas had seized Feredir.

"Thangonnas!" Thranduil commanded, but it was too late. The King's double was already dragging his younger brother back the way they had come at an alarming speed. Legolas and his father remained rooted to the spot for a moment before taking off after them, Dalla also tried to keep up but with little success.

  


She could hear the two brothers arguing in Sindarin, followed by a yell and a splashing sound. A crowd was beginning to gather, and she headed towards it, hearing sounds of disgust coming from the crowd and the two brothers. She pushed her way through and emerging at the King's side, she was greeted by the horrific stench of the latrine pit and the sight of Thangonnas and Feredir up to their ankles in waste, a look of shock on their faces.

Silence had fallen over the crowd, and the King’s face looked like thunder. It was only broken when Prince Legolas dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. His shoulders were shaking, one hand covering his face as tears leaked from his eyes. The two brothers in the pit looked at each other before reaching over and grabbing their Royal brother by the ankles. Before the King could reach his eldest son and pull him to safety, Legolas too was in the latrine pit. Another argument in Sindarin broke out amongst the three, now pushing and shoving each other.

“Enough!” Thranduil bellowed, rendering the three silent, “Get out of the pit now! The rest of you, you have duties to perform.” The crowd began to disperse almost immediately, eager to avoid their King’s wrath.

  


“Dalla, I would like to apologize on behalf of my sons,” he said quietly taking her hand.

“My King?” she said as he gently led her away from the pit.

“I assure you, they will cause you no embarrassment when we arrive,” he continued as they walked back towards the center of the camp. Dalla nodded. The truth was, she had been so amused by the three ellons antics, she had not even considered how it might reflect on her. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Thangonnas and Legolas hauling Feredir from the pit under the watchful eye of one of the Captains.

A sudden sense of trepidation settled in her stomach. She was returning home after a little over a month in the Woodland Realm. Would people expect to see a change in her? If so, what kind of change? Would they all assume that the King had bedded her? Would they scorn her for this assumption?

She looked up at the King, who was smiling down at her. Almost instantly, she felt at ease. She felt safe with Thranduil like the world could come bearing down on her, and he would protect her. They arrived back in the middle of the camp.

“Go with Anira,” he said gently, “Break your fast. I shall join you when I have dealt with my sons.”

“Yes, My King,” she said. He carefully cupped her cheek for a moment before stealing a tender kiss.

“My lady,” he said quietly.

“My King,” she replied before taking her leave.

  


As she went, Thranduil straightened up to his full height and turned, expecting to see his sons, only to find Gwend before him.

“ _Meleth nin_ ,” he said in greeting, his stance instantly softening before her.

“I need to talk with you,” she said, her voice firm, “About Dalla.”

“We can talk about Dalla later,” he said, turning to look at his approaching sons.

“We need to talk about her now!” Looking around, Thranduil could see that many had slowed or ceased in their activities, watching them. Once again, he straightened his back.

“Gwend,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument, “Go await me in my tent. We shall speak after I have dealt with these three.” She did not blink, nor did she look away. Not until she had taken two steps back and then sharply turned her back on him, heading towards his tent.

Thranduil did not like this, Gwend never spoke to him or behaved in such a way, not without something being very wrong. He turned his attention to the three ellons stood before him, though Gwend remained at the back of his mind. They stood in age order, although Thangonnas was at least six inches taller than Legolas. They all looked contrite, staring at their feet.

“I have never witnessed such childishness from three ellon your age!” he chastised them, “This is an important diplomatic visit, we are supposed to be showing our gratitude and friendship with Bard. We are less than a day away, and you three decide that instead of acting like ellons of royal blood, you would prefer instead to be swine and play in excrement!" He began to pace back and forth in front of them.

“This behavior is unacceptable, I might expect something of this ilk from your younger siblings,” he continued, “But never you three! I expect your conduct to be in keeping with your heritage and your upbringing for the remainder of this visit!" Any indiscretion that brings shame to myself, your mother, or Lady Dalla, and there will be demotions and sanctions handed out. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Adar,” all three said in unison.

"Now go, bathe! I will not have you arriving in Dale smelling like fell beasts!" he snapped. His sons marched off in the direction of the river, and his people quickly resumed their work. One task done, now to deal with Gwend.

He had expected Gwend to be seated when he entered but instead found her stood, her shoulders tensed and her arms crossed.

“Gwend,” he said. She turned to look at him before looking towards his bed.

“I wish for you to be honest with me,” she said, “Have you taken Dalla’s innocence?”

“What? No!”

“I heard everythingboth last night and the one before, Thranduil,” she said, “You promised me you would be gentle with her!”

“I am being gentle! I resent that accusation!” he hissed, “I promise you I have not taken her innocence. As for what you heard, Dalla is….more passionate than I anticipated.”

“I have never known you to make a female scream like that without…”

"I am aware!" he cut her off, "I am aware of how it sounded. This is not easy or pleasant for me to deny myself that I wish for so much. Every day I know that Dalla's life is slowly passing, and I do not have the luxury of two centuries to court her as I did with you.

I find myself….torn. I almost succumbed to that desire this morning. Had it not been for Menelya and Anira, those sheets you were looking at could well have been stained." Gwend's shoulders slackened, and she stepped closer.

“I just fear for her, Thranduil,” she said quietly, “She is so sweet and pure, and you, well, you are you.”

“I am me,” he agreed, “I have done nothing with Dalla, that you and I have not discussed. I swear it.” Gwend sighed.

“Forgive me for doubting you,” she said, her hands cupping his face, “There were whispers…”

"There were whispers because I made sure there were," he said gently, "There has been….interest from a certain party. I was trying to throw him off her scent."

“Well, it worked,” she said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “Rumours abound that the Elven King has claimed his prize.” Thranduil took one of her hands in his, lifting it to press a kiss to her palm.

“I have missed you,” he whispered.

“Even with a new toy to play with?”

“You are more than welcome to come see how I play with her if it concerns you,” he smirked, leaning in to kiss her lips, his hand casually squeezing her rounded rear as he did.

“I missed you too,” she replied, playfully swatting his hand away.

“Tonight, I want you back in my bed,” he whispered, **“** As much as I have enjoyed Dalla, I have missed your particular….talents.”

“And I have missed yours,” she replied, “Shall we ride together today, _meleth nin_?”

“Yes, I think so,” he said, “Dalla can ride with Thangonnas and Legolas.”

  


*

  


Menelya leaned against a tree, watching the three ellons who were stripping off by the riverside. Her duties were finished until the caravan moved off so she, and many others who had also completed their work, had come to admire the flesh on display.

She rolled her eyes when she heard the girlish whispers being exchanged by some of the nursemaids, the subject of their conversation was the Elven King’s second son, General Thangonnas.

She had to admit, in face, body, and build, he bore a striking resemblance to his father. More than Legolas for sure. She could already hear one of the maids discussing how to tempt Thangonnas back into her bed. Menelya shook her head. The elleth was delusional if she thought her plan would ensnare the General’s affections for more than a role in the hay. He did not feel with his heart, only with his cock.

All around her, Menelya listened to the elleths whispering about the brothers like they were cattle at a market when none of them had any hope of securing one of the royal sons. Thangonnas was too flighty in his affections, she mused as the three ellons entered the water. The young General bounced from one elleth’s bed to the next quickly. Feredir, youngest of the three, was far too shy to ever return an elleth’s affections before the General had them in his sights. Legolas, on the other hand, was nicely in the middle, but being the heir to his father's throne, he was untouchable, so distantly out of reach, Menelya was concerned he would never find a life partner.

“Ah, Menelya, come to admire your future?” Thangonnas called, drawing her attention back to him. She casually looked him up and down, his form completely nude. Very much like his father, she noted, but far too arrogant about it.

"Oh dear, the water must be freezing," she replied dryly, her arms folding. Thangonnas' face fell at her words, and she smirked. Legolas and Feredir burst out laughing and set aboutwashing their faces. The General was an arrogant ellon, and it was always fun to knock him down a peg or two. Particularly when it came to his ‘personal glory’.

  


*

  


Dalla did not mind the silence between the two brothers she rode with as they made the final leg of their journey. It was easier to admire the Elven King without having to carry on a conversation at the same time. His form looked stunning clad in his black riding cloak, his shoulders broad and defined, his long platinum hair in stark contrast to his dark clothes.

Her mind drifted back to that morning, he had been poised, ready to take her and she had wanted him to. But at the same time, she had been relieved when he pulled back and left the bed. She did not want to return home freshly broken by him.

He rode with Gwend at his side now, and she did not begrudge them the time together. Aside from meals, they had not spent more than a moment together, and she was certain Gwend was unused to not sharing his bed on trips such as this. It had been extenuating circumstances that had pushed Dalla to share a bed with the King, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of two more nights with him on the return journey.

In Dalla’s mind, Gwend looked every inch a Queen, dressed in silver whilst riding on a white mare. She should be his Queen, Dalla thought. Rumors had already reached her that the King had asked Gwend to wed him many times, and each time, she had turned him down.

Perhaps that was why the King loved her, she had no desire for a title or power. Dalla smiled **,** watching Gwend gesture as she spoke with the King only for him to grab her hand and press a kiss to the back of it. It was plain to see the deep love the two shared, and Dalla deeply longed for her own.

The slowing pace of the caravan and a shadow cast over her face made her look up. The pale yellow stone of the walls of Dale loomed above her, the great wooden gates creaked open before them.

  


This was it.

  


She was home.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:
> 
> Thele - Aunt  
> Mellon nin - my friend  
> Meleth nin - my love  
> Firieth - Mortal woman  
> Gi melin - I love you

It had been less than two months since she had left, but to Dalla, it felt like a thousand years since she had left the cobbled streets of Dale to join the Elven King’s harem. She had left on an old, borrowed horse with trunks of gifted clothes and jewels. She returned, now with her own horse, wearing finer clothes than most of Bard’s court, a maid at her beck and call and under the watchful eye of at least one guard. Though where Rinion exactly was, she had no idea.

 

Armored guards line the main street into the city, leading the way up to the palace. Even from a distance, Dalla could see the Dragon Slayer, standing tall and proud, at the top of the steps. He was decidedly greyer than he had been the night Smaug had descended on Laketown, his eyes more lined, his hands more calloused. But his gentle smile remained unchanged, as did the twinkle in his eyes. His people loved him for he had not allowed the power of being King to tarnish his good and honorable nature. It was that honor that had led him to ask for a volunteer to offer themselves to the Elven King as a gift. That request had yielded Dalla.

 

A glance to her side showed Dalla some of the other courtly ladies whispering to each other as she passed. She fought the urge to smile at the jealous looks marring their fair faces, biting her lip. A gesture that did not go unnoticed by the Prince and General who rode on either side of her.

“You know these ladies, _thele_?” Thangonnas asked.

“They turned down the place I took in your father’s harem,” she said, “I think they now regret that choice.”

"Of course they do," Thangonnas said, "They must live their lives unable to look upon me each and every day." Dalla laughed, unsure as to whether he was indeed that conceited or not. His physical charms could not be denied, so close he was in appearance to his father. But he did not have quite the same dignity and poise as Thranduil, she noted.  


 

In front of them, the Elven-King and Gwend came to a stop. Upon the steps, Bard spread his arms wide.  


“Welcome, _mellon nin_ ,” he said clearly as he stepped forward, “It has been too long since you last graced this city with your presence.” Thranduil smoothly climbed from Araglar’s back.

“And I thank you for your gracious hospitality, _mellon_ ,” he replied. The two Kings met each other halfway on the steps. Broad grins spread across their faces as they clasped each other’s right arm in greeting.

"Gracious indeed, I saw the list," Bard said, "Tell me, did you leave anyone behind, or did you bring your entire kingdom with you?" A gentle touch at Dalla's elbow drew her attention away. Rinion stood there, one hand extended towards her and his eyes locking on hers for the first time in two days. She couldn't help but smile at him and gratefully accept his help in dismounting from Alfirin's back. He swiftly dropped her hand, stepping backward and gesturing for her to approach the two Kings. Thranduil had half-turned, looking back with one arm extended towards her. Dalla nodded her head to Rinion before walking forward, taking Thranduil's proffered hand. He guided her to stand before Bard, who looked down at her warmly.  


"Dalla, it brings me such joy to see you again," he said, "We have missed your presence here, all of us." He gestured behind him, and Dalla recognized the faces of his children. Prince Bain stood with his young son, as well as his two sisters. A broad grin spread across Bain's face, and he began to descend the steps to take the space next to his father.  


"It is good to see you again, Dalla," he said, stepping forward, arms spread to embrace her. A gloved hand reached over and gripped his shoulder, seemingly from nowhere and making Dalla start. Rinion appeared at her side, pushing the Prince backward away from her. Bain looked surprised and a little afraid at the sight of the Elven guard.  


“Rinion, stand down,” Thranduil said calmly as Bain backed up the steps away from him. Rinion immediately stepped back to just behind Dalla as the Prince straightened his shoulders.

“That will take some getting used to,” Bard observed quietly. Dalla glanced over her shoulder. Rinion’s grey eyes were sweeping back and forth across the gathered crowd, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. She felt irked. This was her home, her people; there was no call for such aggression, especially towards someone she had known her whole life.

 

The sound of raised voices behind them drew everyone's attention away from the tension brewing on the steps. Dalla heard Thranduil let out a deep sigh as she saw the source of the noise. Tuigalen was still astride her horse, her brow set in a scowl and she was pointing a threatening finger at Thangonnas. She was speaking angrily in Sindarin and Thangonnas was practically spitting in his response as their siblings looked on. Two such headstrong personalities were always destined to clash, Dalla thought as the King turned to look on his unruly offspring. He pursed his lips, and a sharp whistle came from between them. The sounds of arguing immediately ceased as all the children turned to look at their father. A twitch of his head and they scrambled into action. Tuigalen slid sideways in her saddle, Thangonnas instantly wrapping an arm around her waist to help lower her to the ground. Feredir and Legolas lifted the younger ones from the cart behind her horse. Within moments they had formed a line behind their father. A smirk that oozed with pride graced the King's face.  


“My children,” he said to Bard as he gestured towards them, “Of course, you remember Legolas?”

“How can I forget?” Bard chuckled.

“Thangonnas, Feredir, my eldest daughter Tuigalen,” Thranduil continued. He sighed again when he saw Mirima stood next to Tuigalen. She grinned back at him. The King stepped forward, placing a hand on both her and Ceven’s heads and switching their places.

“Ceven, Mirima,” he said, “Areth and….where is Lothiriel?” Dalla looked and noticed the red-headed child was missing from the line.

“Ada,” Legolas said, looking pointedly behind Thranduil. The King turned, lifting his cloak to reveal his youngest, hiding within its folds.

 

A smile creased Bard's face as he gently lowered himself down, so he was crouching.  


“Well met, little one,” he said, “My name is Bard.” He held out one hand towards the small elleth who glanced up at her father for reassurance.

“Go on, _aewithen_ ,” Thranduil said gently, placing one hand on her head. She gingerly reached out and took the old King’s hand. She tilted her head as she looked at him.

“Why do you have silver in your hair?” she asked, “Did the Dwarves put it there?” Bard chuckled.

"In a way," he said, "But this is a sign of wisdom amongst my people." One red eyebrow raised and Dalla bit her lip, the King and his daughter looking so alike at that moment.  


“You must be very wise then,” Lothiriel said, nodding her head, “Why have you hair on your chin?” She reached out and touched Bard’s beard.

“Lothiriel, enough questions for now,” Thranduil said softly, “We have plenty of time for you to ask King Bard as many questions as you would like during our visit.”

“Yes, Ada,” Lothiriel answered, withdrawing her hand. Bain reached over and helped his father to stand.

“Come then,” Bard said as he stood straight, “Come, enjoy the hospitality of my home.” He gestured towards his palace and began to climb up the steps. Lothiriel hurried forward, taking hold of two fingers on Bard’s left hand. Dalla could hear Bard’s chuckle as they climbed the steps. It felt good to be home, she thought as she followed behind Thranduil and Gwend, even if Rinion stood barely six inches behind her.

 

*

 

Gwend sighed, resting her head on her crossed arms and relaxing into the mattress. Strong, long fingers ran up her leg, the heat from the skin soothing her muscles.

“Hmmm," she hummed appreciatively, "I have missed this." The bed shifted slightly, and she felt the tickle of long hair on her back.  


"You take care of me, I take care of you," Thranduil's voice whispered in her ear, "I know it has been quite some time but were those, not the promises we made to each other." He kissed down her neck.  


“Indeed they were,” she smiled as he began to massage her back.

“You feel very tense,” he murmured.

"I hate traveling," she replied, "Especially on horseback."  


“Travel in the cart with the children then,” he suggested, “And we shall take more breaks. All you need do is ask.”

"Yes, but then I would not have a reason for a handsome _ellon_ to rub me down," she sighed. Thranduil leaned in close again.  


“Tell me his name, I will part his head from his shoulders,” he whispered. Gwend grinned and arched her back, pressing herself against the King’s bare chest. A low growl erupted from his throat and his hips pushed against her rump. A smile spread across his chief courtesan’s face as she felt the hard length between his legs.

“Do we have time?” she asked.

"Of course," he replied before nipping at the skin on the back of her neck. One hand seized her hip and rolled her onto her back. Her arms instantly wrapped around his neck as he dipped his head to kiss her. He had missed her the last few days. Whilst playing with Dalla had been an opportunity to explore some other ways of finding pleasure, he missed his first love greatly all the same. He let a small moan slip out as her tongue teased his lips. He crushed his mouth against hers, his tongue invading and entangling her own. Her legs parted beneath him, and he rocked his hips against hers. The feel of her nude body against his had lit a fire in him that would not be easily quenched.  


“Gwend,” he panted as he pulled back to press light kisses along her jaw and neck, “I need you.”

"I need you too," came her reply as he kissed down her chest. He grunted, thrusting against her warmth as he captured one nipple in his mouth. He suckled at her only for a moment before she pushed against his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. She leaned over him, pressing kisses to his twitching elfhood before taking him in her mouth completely. He grunted and moaned, knowing she liked to hear him when they were intimate, delighting in her own noises of pleasure. All too soon, she pulled away from him. She threw one leg across him and straddled his hips. His hands came up to grip her hips, sliding behind her to squeeze her fleshy rear as she rocked against him. She reached between them, gripping his hard cock as she moved it into place. He moaned as her body slowly enveloped him, deliciously tight and wet. Little sighs of satisfaction escaped her lips as her head tilted back.  


 

Thranduil sat up, keeping her body tucked into his. Gwend immediately wrapped her arms around his neck as she moved her legs to gain purchase on the bed. She lifted herself up a little, drawing groans from them both before she dropped back down.

"Gwend," he murmured her name into her shoulder as she moved again, his hands supporting her as she went. His teeth nipped at her skin as her fingers wove into his hair. She moved faster, reveling in the moans and whimpers coming from the Elven King. His fingers dug into her soft flesh as they climbed higher towards euphoria. As she neared the precipice, she tilted his head back enough to press her lips to his. Immediately his tongue demanded entry, and she gave it, humming in satisfaction. One of his large hands skimmed up her side to cup her breast. He traced the tip of one finger over the hardened nub. Gwend moaned into his mouth and rode him harder until she saw flashes of white light behind her closed eyelids. Thranduil grunted and stiffened beneath her, rushes of wet heat accompanying a throbbing deep within Gwend.  


 

The two remained entwined for a few moments, arms and legs wrapped around each other, brows pressed together and breath intermingling.

“I missed you.”

“I know,” he said, “But I shall make reparations.”

“Oh? How do you plan to do that?” Gwend asked, wriggling her hips a little. He grunted in response at first.

“By keeping you in my bed as much as possible this visit,” he answered softly.

“That sounds wonderful, _meleth nin_ ,” she said, “But do not forget to pay visits to my sisters. Your harem only works if all the ladies are attended to.”

“Aye, and there are so many of you now,” he murmured, “I remember the early days of you and I and Inariel. Centuries of it just being the three of us.”

“And then Vinga came from the West,” Gwend recalled, “And I got to watch you fall in love all over again. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and has been each time you have.”

“What did I do to deserve you? No other _elleth_ I could or would have found would be half as patient as you,” he said, pulling one of her hands from his hair and kissing her knuckles.

“We were simply meant to be,” she sighed, “As were all my sisters. I just hope Dalla prove to be as such.”

"Speaking of Dalla, I have need of your opinion on something," Thranduil said. He kissed her again, rolling them, so Gwend was on her back before withdrawing from her. He shuffled off the bed and over to one of the large trunks that lay by the door.  


 

Gwend propped herself up on her elbows, watching him as he retrieved a small box before returning to the bed. He handed the box to her.

"I had it made before we left," he said quietly, "I am planning on giving it to Dalla to wear tonight. Bard is throwing a fine feast in our, and I thought this would suit her well." Gwend sat up and opened the box, gasping when she saw what lay inside. Delicate wire bands decorated in creamy pearls, silk flowers, and glittering diamonds lay on the plush blue silk. Adorning the headpiece too were various coins of gold and bronze.  


“Thranduil, are these….you mean to….” she couldn’t find the words.

“Yes, they are the coins from Doriath,” he said, “All I had on my person when the kingdom fell besides my sword and armor." Gwend could only stare at the beautiful piece before her. For him to have had something such as this made spoke volumes on how he felt.  


“Do you love her?” she found herself asking. Thranduil said nothing, nor did his face betray his thoughts.

“Thranduil,” Gwend said, “Tell me.”

“It is too soon to say,” he said quietly, “Do you think she will like it?” Gwend went quiet for a moment.

“It is beautiful, she will love it,” she said quietly, “Even if she does not understand the significance.” Thranduil leaned in.

“Gwend, you appear to be envious,” he said, a smirk spreading across his face, “Have I not lavished you with jewelry over the years?”

“I am not jealous,” she said, quickly closing the box and passing it back to him.

“You are!” he grinned, “Oh, _meleth nin_ , you are jealous of one little _firieth_.” She looked at him out the corner of her eye, a scowl on her fair face. Thranduil chuckled, setting the box aside.

“You are! You envious of her,” he grinned, leaning in once more. Thranduil threw back his head and laughed. Gwend grabbed the pillow beside her and struck him with it, causing him to roar with laughter even more.

"Jealous am I?" she said as he rolled away from her, "I shall show you jealous." She launched herself at him only to be caught in his arms and rolled beneath him. She squealed as his body pressed her into the bed.  


“ _Gi melin_ ,” he chuckled as he leaned in.

“ _Gi melin_ ,” she replied.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish Translations:
> 
> Melui puig - sweet berry  
> Iell nin - my daughter  
> Mellon nin - my friend  
> Ego - go away  
> Pen ngortheb - Horrible one  
> Ego a cheneden - Be gone from my sight  
> Ego si - Go away now!  
> Ma - Yes/Good  
> Aran nin - My King  
> Geheno nin - Forgive me

Dalla stared at the reflection in the mirror. The woman in the reflection did not look like her; she felt. Indeed she looked unlike any woman of Dale. The dress King Thranduil had sent for her was rather revealing. A section of sheer fabric revealed the tops and inner curves of her breasts before plunging to her naval. Delicate silver and bronze beads decorated the opaque gold fabric that made up the rest of the dress. Anira had worked her magic and encouraged Dalla's natural waves to form thicker and more defined than usual, falling over her shoulders and back. She reminded herself that she was a woman of Dale no longer, she was one of the Elven-King's concubines, part of his Harem.   


 

A knock at the door drew her attention away from her reflection. Anira hurried to the door and opened it. Instantly the elleth stepped to one side, pulling the door open and curtseying as King Thranduil entered. Dalla couldn't help the hitch in her breath when she saw him. His long coat was made from stunning golden cloth that trailed out behind him; rich bronze-gold pants descended seamlessly into soft leather boots. On his head, he wore a crown of twisted green twigs, adorned with white silk flowers, a Springtime crown. Dalla bowed her head as she turned to face him.  
"My King," she said quietly.  
"You look..." he hesitated, "Like a _melui puig_." His eyes raked over her, and his agape mouth closed, forming a feral smirk instead.  
"Yes, a _melui puig_ ,” he said, his voice low, “I have a gift for you.” Dalla looked down at the dress she wore.  
“Not just the dress,” he chuckled, “This.” He lifted a small wooden box in one hand as he stepped towards her.

 

Once he was mere inches from her, he opened the box, revealing a delicate hair piece, covered in delicate pearls, silk flowers, and glittering diamonds. Hanging between them were coins of gold and bronze.  
"I thought it would go nicely with your dress," he murmured softly, "May I?" Dalla nodded, taking hold of the box so Thranduil could lift the piece. His superior height made it easy for him to place it on her auburn hair, Anira appearing at his side to pin it into place.  
"There," he smiled as he stepped back, "Beautiful. Turn around, and take a look." Carefully, Dalla turned.  
"Thank you, my King," she breathed as she took in the addition, "It is beautiful. I will treasure it always."  
"I certainly hope so," he said, "Come, I will escort you to this feast Bard has kindly prepared for us." He offered his hand towards her, and she took it. Anira made one final fuss with her dress, to ensure it was all hanging properly before they left, Dalla’s hand in the crook of Thranduil’s elbow.

 

She savored the feeling of his strong arm beneath her fingers. She had heard giggling maids passing by earlier, whispering to each other about overhearing the Elven King with one of his ladies. She had hoped he would come to see her that afternoon but supposed he would have needs that needed to be met. Especially after two nights with a virgin in his bed, unable to satisfy himself as he usually would. She glanced up at him. She had never imagined this was how her life would end up. Even from a young age, she had pictured herself wed to a man of Dale, possibly a lord, running his home and raising his children. She had never even considered the Elven King's Harem as her destination. A concubine, a kept woman, a prized possession with jewels and fine clothes delivered to her bedchambers almost daily. So, she had to share the male in her life with six other females, but in exchange, he protected her, cared for her, and encouraged her in her interests.  


 

Ahead of them, Dalla spotted Gwend’s maid, Faelwen exiting a room, holding the door open as Gwend herself emerged. She wore a long, elegant gown of pure white that clung to her perfect figure; long sleeves hid her arms and hands from view save for her fingertips. The neck and shoulders were decorated with embroidered flowers and leaves in a golden thread that perfectly matched Thranduil's coat. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back, like a platinum waterfall, identical to the King’s. She wore no adornment on her head, save the silk flowers in her hair and the smile that graced her face.  
“My King,” Gwend said in greeting, bowing her head.  
“Gwend,” he replied, stepping away from Dalla to lean in and press a sensual kiss to Gwend’s mouth. Dalla couldn't help but recall the softness of those lips. Something else she had never thought would happen; kissing another female. She hadn’t given it much consideration since that day but had greatly enjoyed it. A small part of her even wanted to try it again. The very thought sent a shiver down her spine as she remembered the way that one simple, innocent kiss had soon escalated. She caught Gwend's eye, and the elleth sent her a coy smile as if she knew Dalla's thoughts. Gwend fell into step on Thranduil's other side as they made their way through the palace.   


 

They were soon joined by Inariel, Vinga, Finnel, and Tuigalen; all dressed in their finery. Tuigalen seemed almost giddy at being dressed like a lady and not a child.  
“I am extending you a new measure of trust, _iell nin_ ," Thranduil had said as he looked over the deep blue gown Tuigalen had chosen to wear, "Keep it, and we shall see about you leaving the nursery once we are home." Tuigalen had let out a small giggle and lunged forward, embracing her father. Thranduil's hand had rested on her dark hair for a moment before the girl had withdrawn. He had then bent down, so his head was of a height with hers.  
"You look as beautiful as Tinúviel herself,” he whispered, prompting an even greater smile on his first daughter’s face. The family began to move again.  
“Did you know Tinúviel?” Dalla found herself asking. She had heard the story of Beren and Luthien before, told mostly by tipsy Elven diplomats, but had always found it beautiful to hear.  
“Indeed I did,” Thranduil said as they walked, “Though I was but a mere elfling when she was an elleth in her majority. I was there, with my father, the day she brought back Beren. I think he was the first Mortal Man I ever saw.”  
“You were visiting Thingol’s court?”  
“Visiting? No! I was not born a prince,” Thranduil explained, shaking his head, “My father was a lord in Thingol’s court at that time. It was after Doriath fell that we found our way to this part of the world, and the Silvan folk chose my father as their King.”  
“It seems a month is not enough to know all there is to know about you,” Dalla mused, momentarily forgetting they were surrounded by others. They seemed to fade out into nothingness when she looked at him.   
“Indeed not, nor is it enough to know everything about you, I suspect,” he replied, a faint twitch of his lips as he looked back at her. Not for the first time, Dalla felt as though he knew every thought that passed through her mind.  
“Ah, there you are,” Thranduil said, suddenly looking in front of them.

 

Dalla followed his line of sight and saw the elder three sons stood, waiting, with their younger siblings. Legolas looked regal in a tunic that was as silver as moonlight, Feredir wore one of forest green, and Thangonnas wore a striking black tunic, edged with gold. The younger children each matched their mother's gown. Ceren wore a pure white tunic with golden buttons and decorative stitching, Mirima wore a pale blue dress, Areth's gown was dark grey with beautifully polished pewter beads, and Lothiriel was a deep red to match the belt on Finnel's outfit.  
"Before we go in, does anyone need a reminder of the rules I expect you to follow?” Thranduil asked lightly, his gaze fixed on Thangonnas as he spoke.  
“No, _Ada_ ,” the children chorused.  
“Very well then, lead on,” he said, smiling with pride.

 

Gwend took the lead, Ceven’s hand clasped in hers and Feredir on her other side. Thangonnas and Legolas fell into step behind her along with Tuigalen. Behind them came Vinga and Areth, then Inariel and Mirima and finally, Finnel and Lothiriel. Thranduil kept Dalla firmly at his side, bringing up the rear.  
“You are very proud of your children,” Dalla said after a moment, “That much I have gleaned in the short time I have known you.”  
“My pride in my issue is no secret, _melui puig_ ," the King chuckled, "I know many of my neighbors consider me cold and unfeeling, but they have seen naught of me outside of wartime."  
"I suppose that assumption has its benefits," she mused, "If your enemies were to discover that Lothiriel were the apple of your eye..."  
"Are you implying I have favorites amongst my children?"  
"I am implying nothing, my King, I am saying you do," Dalla said, "You favor Lothiriel, whether you realize it or not." The King was silent for a moment.  
"I suppose you are right, she is my youngest, and she is by far the most trusting," he murmured, "I keep her close to keep her safe, I have seen too much darkness in this world to allow it to diminish the vibrancy of her inner light. May I make an observation of you, my Lady?"  
"Of course you may, you are my King."  
  


“You are nervous about this feast.”  
“What makes you say that?”  
“For starters, you have been keeping a slow pace, as though you wish to avoid attending,” Thranduil observed, “You have been focussing on anything other than what is awaiting us, I can see it in your eyes. You have been taking in every minute detail in order to distract yourself. Tell me, why do you feel apprehension about returning to your people?” Dalla looked down at her feet.  
“Dalla?”  
“I wonder how they will see me now,” she said quietly. Thranduil slowed to a stop, a wave of his hand instructing the others to continue without them.  
“How they will see you?” he questioned.  
“Yes, I was sent to serve you in your bed, my King,” she continued, “I was sent because they believed my virginity would be a prize to you.”  
“They will believe I have taken you to my bed,” he surmised, “That you are now in possession of carnal knowledge of myself, and that they will view you as less than you were.” Dalla remained silent. Thranduil leaned in.  
"You should be proud of your place within my harem," he whispered, "You have seen me at my most vulnerable when my control is about to slip, and all I can think of is my desire to roll you over and bury myself inside you." Her breath caught in her throat as his hand lifted, and his long fingers tilted her face towards his.  
"Be proud, and you will not see the disdain in their gazes, but the utmost jealousy," he continued, "For you are now mine, and they cannot have you.”  
“My King,” she breathed as he closed the gap between them.

 

Dalla stiffened for a moment before melting into his touch. His arms enveloped her as her hands traced the delicate patterns of his coat. His lips pressed against hers with bruising force, heating her blood and making her feel light-headed. He pulled her close against him, making her sigh. Thranduil did not hesitate to take advantage, his tongue eagerly plundering her mouth, making her heart beat faster. He reveled in the sounds of her whimpers and sighs as she clung to him, pressing herself against his body. He briefly considered forgoing the feast and taking Dalla back to the chambers Bard had given him the use of. He could have laid her out on the bed and passed the night exploring every taste of her skin, every sound she made and every scent she produced. Two nights of her in his arms had not been enough. He wanted more. The gentle nip of her teeth on his lower lip brought him back to himself, and he pulled back.  
"I trust that the thoughts of others are no longer on your mind," he whispered, taking in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. She blinked at him a few times, and he chuckled.  


“Come now, Dalla, our hosts await us,” he said, brushing his fingers through the waves of her hair.

 

*

 

He had to admit; she looked quite the sight as the double doors opened to admit them into the hall. Her cheeks were flushed a beautiful shade of pink, her lips were reddened and swollen from their kiss, her eyes were sparkling, and her chest still heaved as though fighting for breath. She looked stunning, she looked, at least to his mind, freshly ravished. Any male, Man, Elf or Dwarf, could look upon her and believe her to have been bedded by him within the hour past. He felt more than a little satisfaction in her inability to tear her eyes from him. She gazed up at him in awe and wonder as they made their way in. A smug smirk spread across his face when he realized all eyes were on them. Yes, let them look, let them imagine and admire, but they would never know how sweet she tasted, nor the sounds she made, nor the way her eyes scrunched shut as she fell apart in ecstasy.  
"There you are, my friend,” Bard called, “I was beginning to think the two of you had gotten waylaid.” Dalla blinked and turned her head towards the Dragon Slayer. Bard’s smile fell briefly as he took in her appearance and dress. A look of realization crossed the man's face. This was not the same Dalla he had sent into the woods a month before.  
"Forgive our lateness, _mellon nin_ ," Thranduil replied, "Dalla has been feeling some trepidation about this evening."  
"I can imagine," Bard muttered before returning his gaze to Dalla, "Dalla, Sigrid, and Tilda were looking for you earlier, Katla as well. I'm sure they are eager to catch up with you." Dalla nodded.  
"My Kings," she said, gracefully bowing her head before departing.  


 

Once out of earshot, Bard stepped closer.  
“Is trepidation the only thing she has been feeling?” he asked cautiously. Thranduil let out a small laugh.  
“Bard, I assure you, all I have done is kiss her,” he replied.  
“Kiss her?”  
“Today at least.”

Bard shook his head.  
“I watched her grow up within these walls,” he said, looking around and gratefully accepting a cup of wine from a passing servant. Thranduil took one as well.  
“She fell down those steps no less than a dozen times as a child,” Bard said, gesturing to the steps that led to his throne, “She was usually being chased by Lord Hallgrim's boys. And through those doors over there, is where you two first met."  
"I beg your pardon?" Thranduil exclaimed, staring at the doors Bard was indicating.  
"You don't recall?"  
"Not at all!"  
"Well, she was only five years old. I doubt she even recalls it. But it was you, and I, her father Jon, Hallgrim, Percy, Mord, and Anlaf were all stood in the courtyard, discussing where, to begin with, the rebuilding. Dalla clung to her father's leg the entire time, staring up at you." Thranduil searched desperately for the memory. He could recall the conversation, the men Bard had mentioned, including a red-haired man.  
“Did Jon have red hair as well?” he asked.  
“Aye, same as Dalla’s.”  
“I can remember him,” Thranduil said, “He was quiet, but he gave sound advice as I recall.”  
“Can you remember Dalla?”  
“No,” Thranduil replied honestly, feeling some small pain in his chest, “I cannot.”  
“I’m surprised you remember Jon,” Bard mused, “He became quite reclusive after his son died." Thranduil remained silent, unsure of what to say. He had been fortunate, no ill fate had ever befallen his children, and when he spoke with families who had lost loved ones to war, he had always managed to find the words. Dalla had spoken of her brother's death once; he had been lost to a pox. Thranduil had no words to convey sorrow in such a case; the Eldar did not suffer pestilence and sickness as mortals did.  
"What has you looking so forlorn, my King?" Thranduil turned when he heard Gwend's voice. He had never been so happy to see her.  


 

*

 

Dalla walked around the hall, sipping the wine she had been given, looking for Bard’s daughters. She had not found them before dinner, where she had sat between Inariel and Finnel. There had been a few scorning glances in her direction, but everyone was enjoying the gifted Dorwinion so much, that most paid her no mind. And for that, she was grateful, even as she left the dining tables with everyone else and resumed her search. She had not gone far when she heard a woman gasp and utter ‘excuse me’ breathlessly behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Rinion no more than seven feet away. She sighed. She was not finding his constant presence easy to tolerate. When she had moved about her chambers that afternoon, he had followed, even when she had gone to the bathroom. At least back in Thranduil's Halls, the guards were outside the Harem, and she was free to move about without such scrutiny. Rinion had insisted he needed to familiarise himself with all possible entryways into her chambers, so she surrendered to his superior knowledge on the matter. He had also prowled behind her at dinner, almost as if he were hunting.

  
"Dalla!" She looked up and was pleased to see Sigrid and Tilda bounding over to her, delighted smiles on their faces.  
"Look at you!" Sigrid stopped a few feet from her, "That dress is divine and so scandalous. I could see your breasts from where I was sitting!”  
“Not so scandalous as hers,” Tilda said, pointing towards Inariel. Inariel’s pale blue gown had segments missing that revealed her smooth, pale skin.  
“The Elves idea of modesty is very different from ours,” Dalla said, watching as Rinion backed off a few feet, “Most of the dresses I was sent with have had a seamstress’ scissors taken to them. King Thranduil, it seems, is particularly fond of showing off his ladies.”  
“I’ll say,” Sigrid said, “Oh, Katla! Over here!”

 

She waved towards a dark-haired woman who was weaving her way closer through the crowd, who mostly parted out of her way. She was Katla, wife of Bain, the future King of Dale after all. She had already borne him one son, Brand, and was now heavy with what was expected to be a second.  
"Dalla, it's so good to see you again," she said, "We have missed you!"  
"Look at you!" Dalla exclaimed, "I left less than two months ago, and you seem to have doubled in size!" She placed a hand on Katla's extended stomach as they laughed. She felt a faint tap where she placed a palm.  
"Was that a kick?"  
"It certainly was, kicking just like their brother," Katla smiled, "Oh, we have an audience." Dalla followed her gaze and saw Thranduil watching them, a faint smile on his face as he sipped at his wine. The smile sent a faint shiver down her spine as his eyes flickered between her and Katla.  
“He looks as though he wants to eat you,” Tilda teased.  
“Oh, that reminds me! Did you know those old stories about him eating wayward children were started by his son Thangonnas?!”  
“Which one is Thangonnas?” asked Katla.  
“Tallest one, blond and wearing black,” Dalla explained.  
“Oh, I believe I have already met him,” Sigrid said quietly.  
“What do you mean?” asked Tilda.  
“Last time Prince Legolas came for a visit, I met the General in the stables,” Sigrid explained, “I was actually looking for Balli, and I found Thangonnas instead.” The other women fell silent.  
“How was he?” Katla asked after a moment.   
“I suspect as talented as his father judging by the look on Dalla's face when she came in," Sigrid grinned.  
"Oh, well, the King and I, I mean...King Thranduil has not yet..."  
"You're still a virgin?" Tilda queried, her eyebrows raising. Dalla nodded.  
"Thranduil, I mean, King Thranduil, he's so patient and kind with me," she said, smiling, "He's given me countless books to read, he's taught me how to swim, and he says he does not want to rush me into his bed. And he is far gentler than most would believe. When he holds me in his arms, I feel so safe and relaxed. He is...perfect."  
"You're in love," Sigrid stated quietly.  
"What? Don't be ridiculous," Dalla shook her head.  
"No, Dalla, she is right, you're blushing all over," Tilda whispered, "It started when you talked about him. Do you feel butterflies in your stomach when you think of him or see him?"  
"Does your heart flutter?" asked Sigrid.  
“Do you want to be with him all the time?” Katla inquired. Dalla nodded, feeling a rush inside her as she thought about what they said, her breath shuddered in her chest. Were they right? Could she possibly be in love with the Elven King? But if she were, why did she also feel a heat in her blood around Gwend, especially when she recalled their kiss?

 

She looked over towards him. He had turned away, now conversing with Bard and a few other lords, a confident smile on his face. She tried to envision him not being in her life and came up empty. He was it; he was what she wanted. She turned back to her companions.  
"I'm in love with the Elven King," she breathed. Tilda let out a little squeal before quickly quietening when people turned and stared.  
"Why are you still standing here?" she asked, "Go! Tell him!"  
"Oh, I do not wish to bother him..."  
"But how will you know if he feels the same if you do not?!"  
"Fine, I will tell him," Dalla said, turning on her heel.  


 

She began weaving her way through the gathered dignitaries, noting that Rinion had resumed tailing her. She was starting to feel distinctly like prey and that he was the predator. She glanced back at him and collided with something solid.  
"Oh, forgive me," she said, her head whipping back around, "My apologies, Lord Dagfinn." Lord Dagfinn was much older than her and extremely strong and solid for a man in his sixties. If it were not for his greying hair, most would assume him to be at least three decades younger. Dalla would have been lying if she said she did not fear him. He had a legendary temper and very little patience for females.  
"Too busy looking for our lover?" he snarled, "Do not think because you now warm a King's bed that you are not beholden to your manners, daughter of Jon."  
"I did not..."  
"Whores, you are all the same, whether you service bargemen or Kings," Dagfinn cut her off, "Only weak men require succor between a woman's legs. And the Elven King finds it between many I hear. Your father would be disgusted with you, you have fallen so!" Dalla flinched at his words.  
"Tell me," Dagfinn continued, leaning in, "What does it cost to lay with you? Those pretty coins on your head? Does he give you one each time you spread yourself for him? I have a great many, pretty coins I could give you..."  


 

Dagfinn suddenly stumbled backward, and Dalla felt a strong arm wrap around her waist. She was pulled in, colliding with a solid chest.  
" _Ego, pen ngortheb_ ,” a voice growled. She looked up. At first, she had expected to see Thranduil coming to her rescue, but it was instead Rinion who held her close, protecting her from Lord Dagfinn’s vile words.  
“ _Ego a cheneden!_ ” Rinion barked, “ _Ego si!_ ” The people around them fell silent as the raised voices drew their attention.  
“I will not be ordered around by some lowly Elven guard!” Dagfinn spat.  
“Rinion is charged with protecting Lady Dalla,” Thranduil’s voice cut through the silence, “That is not just from physical attacks. Dalla, come here.” He extended a hand towards her. He no longer wore a smile on his face, but a scowl. Dalla cared not. She ripped herself from Rinion’s grip and hurried into Thranduil’s waiting arm. He wrapped it around her waist, holding her close. A gentle hand touched her hair; it was Gwend, ever at Thranduil’s side. Thranduil's other hand came up and clasped one of Dalla's; she hadn't even realized she was shaking.  
"I will not have one of my ladies spoken to in such a manner," Thranduil said, his voice dropping low, "Though I defer to my good friend Bard as your King to enact some fitting punishment. My ladies are not whores, nor are they available for purchase to the likes of you!" He turned and walked away, guiding Dalla alongside him, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.  


 

 

He led her away from the hall, several of the female guards from the Harem taking up positions alongside them with Rinion at the rear. All thoughts of what Dalla had intended to tell him had vanished. She could not recall what she had planned to say; instead, she gripped his coat more tightly as he led her through the palace until they reached the chambers he had been given.  
"Rinion, you may stand guard outside," Thranduil ordered as he lifted Dalla's fingers from his clothes and passed her hands to Gwend, "The rest of you, return to the hall and ensure the rest of my ladies, and my children are not treated as Lady Dalla was." Gwend led Dalla inside.  
“ _Ma, aran nin_ ,” said one of the female guards and they turned as one, leaving back to the hall. As they left, he turned to Rinion.  
“You forget yourself, and your place, Rinion,” he growled.  
“ _Geheno nin, aran nin_ ," Rinion said, bowing his head, "I merely…."  
"I care not!" Thranduil cut him off, "You know the rules. The ladies of the Harem are not to be touched. Next time, you push the offender away, not draw Dalla to you! Am I clear?"  
" _Ma, aran nin_ ,” Rinion replied.  
“Good.”

 

Sweeping inside, Thranduil found Dalla looking calmer, Gwend’s hands on her upper arms. He said nothing to draw attention to him, enjoying the sight of his first love and Dalla stood so closely.  
“He sounds naught but the bitterest of old men,” Gwend said soothingly as she looked down at Dalla’s countenance, “I would dare even say he is jealous that our King is blessed with so many beauties around him whilst his black heart attracts nothing but loneliness and fear. Worry not on him, my dear.” Dalla smiled, looking down slightly, a faint pink flush to her cheeks. Gwend leaned in and pressed a kiss to Dalla's cheek. Although faint, Thranduil heard the sound of Dalla's breath catching in her chest. He watched carefully as her hands twitched, and her eyes fluttered shut. A deep inward breath through his nose told him that neither female before him was intoxicated from the wine being served that evening, but both were pleasantly relaxed. And aroused by the other's close proximity. Dalla's face turned slightly more towards Gwend's. Their lips were now just a hair's breadth apart as he felt his blood heat at the sight.  
"My King?" Gwend whimpered as Dalla’s chest began to heave.  
"Yes," he said firmly. Gwend closed the gap between them with a sigh, her lips capturing Dalla's. Thranduil felt his groin harden at the sight. Now, this was going to be a treat.  



	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> Melui nin - My sweet  
> Avo dharo - Don't stop  
> Aran nin - My King  
> Meleth nin - My love  
> Ma - Yes  
> Ad - Again

Dalla's heart pounded. The sweet taste of Gwend's soft lips made her feel almost delirious even as the elleth pulled her ever closer. Dalla let out a soft involuntary sigh as Gwend's fingers wound their way into her hair. She felt the tentative touch of Gwend's tongue against the seam of her lips and gladly opened. The knowledge that the great Elven King sat perched on a desk mere feet away sent heat coursing through her veins. Her mind fogged as Gwend gently tasted her mouth. She gripped Gwend's hips, pulling her flush against her body. Yes, she loved the Elven King, but she still wanted this. She wanted Gwend. She began to kiss the elleth back, pushing her tongue into Gwend's mouth, one hand cupping the back of her head and holding her in place. Gwend moaned against her mouth, eagerly taking what Dalla was offering. Dalla opened one eye briefly before pushing Gwend backward into the wall. The elleth's hips rolled against hers, and Dalla felt a large, strong hand skim up her side. She pulled back from Gwend's mouth.

"If you continue, there is no going back, Dalla," the King's voice whispered in her ear, "We will see it through. Last chance and Rinion will escort you back to your room."

Dalla paused for a moment, taking in the flushed cheeks of Gwend and the gentle but insistent press of Thranduil's fingers on her flesh. She could feel the gentle ghost of Thranduil's breath on her ear, and a shiver ran down her spine. She leaned in and kissed Gwend again, gently this time, eliciting a whimper from the elleth. She was rewarded with the feel of the King's mouth on her neck, mimicking the movements of the two female's mouths. His hands moved to her back, gently teasing the buttons of her dress loose. Gwend's fingers curled over the top of her sleeves, slowly easing it down, never once breaking the kiss. The cool night air hit Dalla's skin as her breasts were exposed. She gasped slightly, and Gwend took the opportunity to break from the kiss, instead turning her attention to the opposite side of Dalla's neck. She felt Thranduil's large hands close over her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples. She moaned and tilted her head back onto his shoulder as Gwend worked her dress over her hips.

"Look at her, Gwend," his voice was a low rumble in her ear, "Is she not one of the most divine creatures you ever saw?" Gwend hummed her approval before Dalla felt her lips brush against the curve of her breast. Dalla's heart fluttered in anticipation, and a low growl came from Thranduil's throat as her dress finally fell to her feet.

"Gwend," Dalla sighed as the elleth closed her mouth over one breast, her tongue flicking against the hardened bud as she suckled at the soft flesh. Almost immediately, Thranduil's mouth resumed its work on her neck, adding in the gentle graze of his teeth against her skin.

Dalla's hips pressed backward, and she felt Thranduil's iron-like cock pressing into her back. She couldn't help the smirk that spread across her face as she reached behind her and grasped him.

"Are you enjoying this, my King?" she purred as Gwend pulled back.

"Yes," he grunted, his cock swelling slightly in Dalla's hand. He spun her around, pulling her into his arms and kissed her, just as he had earlier that night. Dalla's hands slipped to the fastenings of his coat, slowly opening them and pushing it from his shoulders. He pulled from the kiss to turn his attention to Gwend whose own gown had joined Dalla's on the floor. Dalla watched with keen interest as their lips brushed together before his tongue slipped between her lips. His grip on Dalla loosened, and she stepped backward. Her grin spreading, she lowered herself onto her knees and began tugging on the laces to his pants whilst admiring as his long fingers squeezed the fleshy globes of Gwend's rear. She got his pants loose and tugged them down until his Elfhood sprang free. She took a deep breath, remembering what he had taught her the night before.

A muffled grunt escaped the Elven King as Dalla closed her mouth over the tip of his cock, his hand came to rest on the back of her head. She swirled her tongue around the head before sucking gently. He let out a sigh of approval as she took more of him into her mouth before withdrawing. Dalla opened her eyes briefly to see one of Gwend's hands was now closed about his base, tenderly squeezing in time with Dalla's efforts. A strangled cry came from the King's throat, and one leg trembled. Dalla took as much of him as she could but went too far and had to pull back, coughing as he had struck the back of her throat. Gwend dropped to her knees beside her.

"Do not rush," she whispered as she stroked Dalla's hair, "The King is not easy to take all at once. Watch." The blonde elleth leaned in and took the King's length between her lips, slowly easing back and forth, a little more each time. She tilted her head back slightly before descending the entire way, her lips brushing the base. Thranduil let out a roar of pleasure as Gwend held herself there for a moment before withdrawing.

"Would you like to try?" she asked before placing a few kisses around his leaking tip. Dalla nodded eagerly.

"Good," Gwend replied, "But first, we must finish with his clothing." She stood up, drawing Dalla up with her and started pushing Thranduil backward towards the bed. The grin on his face suggested he was more than happy with this turn of events.

Once they reached the bed, the Elven King gladly lay down upon it as Dalla and Gwend worked together to remove his boots and pants, leaving him as gloriously bare as they were. Dalla had a brief moment of clarity as she watched Gwend crawl onto the bed. She was actually doing this; she was actually going to experience what it was like to be with both of them. And the thought of it sent heat rushing through her veins. She wanted it. She wanted him; she wanted her; she wanted everything. She climbed onto the bed, straddling one of the King's strong legs as she watched him kiss Gwend repeatedly, whispering to each other in their own tongue. His knee bent, causing his leg to press against Dalla's core. She whimpered and rocked against him as Gwend pulled back, the King whispering in her ear.

"He wants you near his head," Gwend said, her eyes flashing with excitement, "As you were this morning." Dalla trembled at the thought and the memory of his tongue working her up into a frenzy. This morning he had come oh so close to claiming her. If it had not been for Menelya, she was certain she would not have returned to Dale a virgin. He had been poised at her entrance, so very lost in the moment.

Taking a deep breath, Dalla removed herself from his leg, crawling up the bed as Gwend took her place between his thighs. She looked upon the King's face and saw his eyes were almost black with desire.

"Where would you like me, my King?" she asked.

"You know where I want you," he said, his voice impossibly deep as he fought to maintain his composure, "I want that sweet, soft quim on my tongue again." Dalla felt her cheeks flush at his words as she reached his head. She felt her hands shake a little with nerves as she turned and lifted one leg. His hands came up, gripping her waist and guiding her until she was astride his head. He pressed a kiss to her thigh.

"Watch, Gwend, _melui nin_ ," he whispered, "Watch, and learn." Dalla could feel her legs trembling as she watched Gwend gently run her tongue along the King's shaft, swirling it around the swollen head. It was hard to concentrate with Thranduil's hands running over her skin as he pressed kisses to her inner thighs. As Gwend's lips closed over the tip, she felt Thranduil's tongue press against her entrance. She let out a small cry, her eyes closing briefly before she made herself focus on the elleth instead, watching as Gwend worked the King with her mouth and hand, lowering herself a little more each time. Thranduil lapped at her, drawing out sighs and whimpers as she watched Gwend tilt her head slightly. She paused for a moment, looking up, her eyes locking with Dalla before lowering her head down, taking him completely. Dalla squeaked as she felt Thranduil's tongue press against her pearl. She panted as she rocked her hips, reveling in the Elven King's attention as he grunted and moaned beneath her. His hands gripped her thighs as he pulled her closer to his mouth, his tongue lapping at her intensely. Gwend pulled back, releasing Thranduil's cock as Dalla's legs began to tremble.

"Your turn," Gwend grinned. Dalla whimpered as she felt Thranduil release her, pressing a gentle kiss to her flesh as he did. She slowly climbed off him and re-joined Gwend by his legs.

She swallowed nervously watching the swollen flesh twitch before her; she could see his tip leaking as his whole body relaxed into the mattress.

"Take your time," Gwend whispered in encouragement, "He likes it slow." Dalla brushed her hair back as she leaned in, licking the fluid away from his tip. She was rewarded with a long, deep moan from the Elven King. She began tracing around the head, noting which spots made him shudder, which made his hips try to thrust upwards into her mouth. As she closed her mouth over him, she felt Gwend gently brush her hair back once more, holding it in place.

"Very good," she cooed, "Open your eyes and see the devastation you bring." Dalla looked up. Thranduil's eyes were closed, his mouth open, his hands gripping the pillow behind him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his whole upper body seemed tense. Emboldened, she took more of him, delighting as she tasted the sweet flavor that told her his seed was close.

"Remember to breathe," Gwend murmured in her ear, "And relax." Dalla mewled as she felt Gwend's tongue creep out and trace the shell of her ear. Thranduil groaned at the vibration, followed by another surge of fluid. Dalla took more of him, relaxing her throat and taking more than she ever had before but still not all of him. A noise of frustration escaped her as she pulled back, suddenly unable to breathe.

"Do not fret," Gwend said gently, "It can take time, and our King is not an easy one to take." Dalla looked up at her in time for Gwend to lean in and press a kiss to her lips.

"Go to him," the elleth muttered, "I will see this done."

Dalla nodded and crawled back up the bed to where Thranduil waited for her. She felt like she had failed him, as though his lessons had not sunk in. She had prided herself on learning quickly, even learning enough Sindarin to understand common phrases and words used by the Elves so that they need not speak Westron for her benefit. He gathered her up in his arms, his embrace immediately melting those worries away as he pulled her in for a tender kiss, his fingers tracing along her jaw.

"You did well," he murmured, "I am proud of you; you have learnt quickly." Dalla could not help the smile that spread across her face at his praise. He kissed her again but broke it to release a shuddering moan as the bed shifted beneath them. Dalla looked back to find Gwend now impaled upon the Elven King's cock; her eyes closed as she savored the feeling. Dalla felt a rush of arousal as she watched the beautiful elleth, her legs spread wide as she straddled the King, leaning back with her hands resting on his thighs. Thranduil's left hand moved to rest on Gwend's hip as she began to rock against him, her head thrown back. His right hand pulled Dalla closer against him before he laid it on one of her buttocks, squeezing gently in time with Gwend's moans. Thranduil's lips captured Dalla's once more, demanding entry which she happily gave.

What a sight they made, the Elven King and two of his Harem. One riding him into bliss while the other delighted in his passionate kiss and the whispered caress of her name. He pulled back to let out a deep groan, his teeth grinding as his arm tensed around her.

"Gwend, _avo dharo_ ," he grunted before kissing Dalla again. Gwend's response was to ride him faster, crying out in pleasure. Her pace grew sloppy as she neared her peak, and Dalla couldn't help but watch, Thranduil happily pressing his kisses to her neck and jaw rather than her lips. It was fascinating to watch. Thranduil's length glistened as Gwend lifted herself, the flesh around her sex flushed a deep pink to match her face and chest, a small engorged nub just visible within her folds was being toyed with by the Elven King's long and clever fingers. Gwend's head was thrown back, her long silver-blonde hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her eyes were shut, and her mouth formed a perfect O. Her back was arched, her breasts thrust outwards as her jaw clenched.

"Thranduil, _aran nin_!" she cried as she impaled herself fully upon him, taking all of him inside her. She screamed as her hips jerked furiously against him, leaning forward, so her pearl brushed against his skin. Thranduil's hips jerked upwards, desperately trying to be deeper within her than he already was. He let out a roar that sounded more like a wild beast in rut than a beautiful, regal Elven King. Gwend sat upright just enough that Dalla could see the King's prick pulsate between her legs as he gave her his seed.

The two Elves took mere moments to regain their senses and catch their breath.

"Oh, _meleth nin_..." Thranduil panted, smiling down at Gwend who lifted herself from him, his cock slipping from her and dropping to lay against his lower abdomen, " _Telo si_." Gwend grinned and eagerly clambered up the bed to join him on the opposite side to Dalla. She leaned in and gave him a passionate kiss as Dalla watched, squeezing her slick thighs together to alleviate the growing pressure she felt.

"I want to see," the King whispered to her as they parted. Gwend nodded, shifting to lay on her back as Thranduil extracted himself from between his two ladies. Dalla watched as Gwend parted her legs for him and Thranduil lowered his head between them. Dalla shifted to get a better view. It was all so fascinating to watch them, to see how they made love so passionately even after thousands of years together. Moving closer to Gwend, who happily slid one arm around her waist, Dalla could see Thranduil gently parting Gwend's folds, his eyes scanning over every inch as if examining her. Dalla's attention almost faltered when she felt Gwend's face nuzzle at her breast, and she couldn't help but moan as the elleth once more took her nipple in her mouth and suckled. Fighting to keep her eyes open, Dalla saw that Thranduil's gaze had turned to her just as Gwend's hand slipped between her legs. Dalla couldn't help but cry out as her hips instinctively tilted into the elleth's touch. The Elven King smirked briefly before looking back to Gwend's core and putting his mouth to it. Gwend moaned as Dalla watched the Elven King caress her with his tongue, lapping greedily before taking in a drop of pearly liquid that dripped from her. His seed.

"Do you wish to try, Dalla?" the King's voice was a hoarse rumble, "You have never tasted another female?" Dalla shook her head.

"Come," he said, beckoning towards her, "I think you will enjoy it." Dalla reluctantly pulled away from Gwend and joined the King. He pulled back, allowing her to take his place between Gwend's legs. Gwend let out a small whimper as Dalla's breath ghosted over her flesh.

"Now, do you remember what I did to you last night? And this morning?" Thranduil whispered, leaning over her. Dalla nodded, her breath catching in her chest.

"Good," he said, "Now, start by kissing her, gently, as if you were making love to her mouth with yours." His hand slid under her and rolled one nipple between his finger and thumb, making Dalla squeal as she lowered her head. She gently pushed one of Gwend's legs aside, opening her up more, and pressed a kiss to the elleth's inner thigh. A happy sigh from both Elves assured her she was doing good as she repeated it, this time closer to the juncture of Gwend's thighs. She slowly kissed her way up one thigh, occasionally flicking her tongue out to taste Gwend's skin, before moving across to the other one. Gwend moaned and tilted her hips up, pleading with Dalla to end her suffering.

"Good, Dalla, look at how ready she is," Thranduil shifted to kneel over Dalla's thighs, his hot and heavy length laying against her cheeks. Dalla looked and saw a trickle of fluid escaping from Gwend.

"She wants you," the King continued to goad her, "She wants your sweet little mouth on her quim, tasting her, I wonder if you could make her fall apart on the first try? Do you want to?"

Dalla nodded.

"Yes, yes, my King," she panted, "I want it."

"Then take her."

Dalla surged forward and kissed Gwend's core, making the elleth cry out in delight, her hands rushing to Dalla's hair to hold her in place.

"Start at the bottom," Thranduil whispered, "Taste her!" Dalla used her fingers to part Gwend's folds, exposing her hidden entrance. Eagerly Dalla lapped at the new trickle coming from her. A mixture of tastes hit Dalla's tongue, but she instantly recognized the sweet taste of the King's seed, groaning slightly as she pressed her own hips back against the King. He let out a few curses as she continued to taste Gwend with increasing ferocity. She wanted it all, as much as Gwend could give her. Her mind flickered with the image of feasting upon Gwend whilst the Elven King fucked her from behind. His sudden groan assured her he was thinking the same.

"Move upwards now, find the little pearl," he grunted in her ear, his hand now eagerly squeezing her breast. Dalla did as she was told, her tongue exploring Gwend's center, seeking the little pearl that promised endless pleasure. She found it, swollen and solid.

"Suckle on it," the King instructed, his cock throbbing with desire against Dalla's skin. Dalla pursed her lips, capturing the tiny nub and suckling as the King had done to her the night before. Gwend cried out, louder this time.

"Dalla! _Ma, ma, ad_!"

Dalla felt her hand being peeled from Gwend's thigh and lifted before a warm mouth closed over her middle finger, sucking gently.

"Now, fuck her," the King ordered as his mouth released her.

Without hesitation, Dalla pressed the now slick finger into Gwend, gasping as she felt the tight, wet heat clamp down around the digit. Gwend cried out her name again, sending yet another rush of wet heat to pool between Dalla's legs. Dalla flicked her tongue across Gwend's clit, gently thrusting her finger in time with it, hoping that Thranduil might take the same mercy on her and her now soaking core. Dalla lapped greedily at Gwend, increasing the pace of the penetration as Gwend's thighs began to tremble.

"Ah! Dalla!" Gwend cried out.

"Keep going," Thranduil whispered encouragement as he kissed down Dalla's spine, "She is close, she will cum if you give her another finger and then I will make you cum." Dalla pulled her finger from Gwend quickly before eagerly licking her index finger and thrusting both back into the elleth. Gwend screamed as Dalla returned to feasting on her. It was intoxicating. The taste, the smell, the feel of Gwend's intimate areas eagerly accepting her, to know that she was having the same effect on her as she did on the King. It made her feel powerful. She shifted on the bed, bringing her knees up underneath her and spreading them to present herself to the King's view whilst her free hand crept up to caress one of Gwend's breasts.

As though perfectly timed, Thranduil pressed his mouth to Dalla's core just as Gwend began to spasm around Dalla's fingers, screaming in pleasure once more. Dalla gasped and cried out at the intrusion of the King's tongue and was rewarded with a gush of warm fluid from Gwend on her own. It tasted divine, and she used her hands to force Gwend's thighs as far apart as she could as Thranduil parted her own folds to probe her deeper. She rutted back against his mouth as she lapped greedily at Gwend. The sensations were too much, too heady, too potent and she cried out, her brow resting on Gwend's mound as she felt the sudden impending feel of orgasm rushing towards her. Thranduil's long fingers slipped between her legs and strummed her into ecstasy. She screamed a name, whose she wasn't sure, as white light and spots erupted in her vision. A heavy warmth encapsulated her as she collapsed towards the bed, the last sensation she felt was Thranduil's arms catching her before she hit the mattress.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> \- hortalë elen - (Quenya) Shooting Star (lit. speeding star)  
> \- melui nin - (Sindarin) my sweet

When Dalla woke, she found herself sprawled across the Elven King’s chest, her cheek pressed against his warm skin, feeling it gently rise and fall with each breath he took. One arm lay wrapped around her waist, holding her close against him. Memories of the night before came flooding back. She was shocked at herself. After Lord Dagfinn’s verbal assault, her mind had been racing, she hadn’t been thinking clearly until the moment Gwend’s lips had brushed against hers. Then there had only been one overwhelming thought, how much she had wanted the elleth. With the King’s permission and guidance, she had taken Gwend to bliss and back. The last thing she recalled was her head buried between Gwend’s legs as the King delivered pleasure upon herself. Lifting herself slightly, she looked around. Gwend was absent, and through the partially open door, she could see Rinion's leg; he was still standing guard, it appeared. The only light was coming from the flickering candles, the sky outside the window was black as pitch.  
“It is not yet dawn, go back to sleep,” a low voice rumbled beneath her. Looking down, she saw the Elven King’s open eyes watching her. Smiling, she leaned down and kissed him, a kiss he gladly returned as his hands stroked her back. His arms encircled her, and he rolled them over, so she was beneath him as he kissed along her jaw. Dalla sighed happily. This felt wonderful, safe in his arms in a warm bed, she would have happily spent all of her days here.  


 

Thranduil’s lips returned to hers, kissing her gently as his fingers traced along her jaw. He still held her close to him, and she savored the feel of his skin against hers. She wound her arms around his neck and sighed happily. He shifted slightly, and she felt his hard length against her thigh. She gasped, and he took full advantage, slipping his tongue into her mouth to slide against hers. She moaned as his hips rocked against her, the blunt head of his cock pressing against her entrance. She slid one hand down his back to his hip, gently squeezing. He rocked against her again, a low moan coming from his throat. His hands moved down her body to her hips, lifting her closer to him as he moved. His cock was trapped between them, rubbing against her clit as he continued to rut against her. Dalla couldn't help but pant, her heartbeat quickened and her skin began to feel like fire. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she rocked against him. Another moan escaped him, and he pulled back from the kiss, just savoring the feeling of her rutting against him.  
"Dalla," he whimpered, rolling onto his back and bringing her with him, so she was astride him. She dug her knees into the mattress beneath them and sat up. Her mind was still fuzzy with sleep, but she could still appreciate the fine form of the Elven King. Seeing him laid beneath her, watching her through heavy-lidded eyes sent jolts of arousal through her. Gentle pressure from his hands had her rolling her hips against him, sighing in pleasure as she felt herself become slick. Thranduil groaned beneath her, his chest rising and falling quicker. Dalla placed a hand on the center of his chest and felt his rapid heartbeat beneath her fingers. Leaning in, she pressed her mouth to his, and he eagerly took what she was offering.   


 

She had only one regret about what they had done earlier, and that was she had not asked him to take her. If her orgasm had been so mind-altering with just his tongue, she had to wonder what it would have been like for him to take her fully. His kiss was passionate and deep, his hands were weaving their way into her hair. Sighing a little, Dalla raised her hips enough to free his cock from between them.  
"Dalla," he breathed again as she began to rock back against him, but he made no move to stop her as his cock pressed against her entrance.  
“Thranduil,” she whimpered as she pressed back more, feeling him slide between her folds. Her heart thudded in her chest. This was happening. She felt pressure as he pushed in further until a sharp jolt of pain shot through her, and she let out a cry.   


 

In an instant, Thranduil had rolled them over, pulling out of her and placing his hand over her core. He gently hushed her as he cradled her against his chest.  
“Patience,” he whispered. For a moment, Dalla thought he would deny her, but then his hand began to move, his fingers gently stroking her folds as he kissed her forehead. After a moment, the pain ebbed away, replaced with the pleasant feeling of his long fingers brushing against her center. She tilted her head back to look at him. He leaned in.  
“Do you want this?” he asked gently, “Do you want me to claim you?”  
“Yes,” she breathed. She did want it. She wanted him, the Elf she loved, to lay claim to her body. No other male would ever have her, only him, only Thranduil.

 

His fingers stroked her a few more times before his hand gently encouraged her to part her legs.  
"This will help," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers, "Stay calm, and try to relax." Dalla took a deep breath as she watched his face, trying not to think about the hand between her legs. She took a shuddering breath in as she felt him probe her with a finger, her hand shooting down to grab his wrist.  
“I need you to trust me, _hortalë elen_ ,” he whispered as her fingertips traced over his hand. It was only his smallest finger that he was using.  
“This will help, I promise,” he said, leaning in to kiss her, “It will stretch you so it will hurt less when I enter your body. Do you trust me?” Dalla nodded and accepted the kiss he offered as his finger pushed deeper inside her. It didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable. Thranduil didn't break the kiss as his thumb brushed the nub between her legs until she whimpered against his lips.  
“Good girl,” he whispered as he began to move his hand, pulling his finger almost all the way out before pushing back in. He kept going, Dalla could feel herself getting slick again and tilted her hips experimentally into his touch. His hand withdrew from her before returning. A fingertip probed her, and he paused, allowing her to run her own over his hand, feeling his ring finger at her entrance this time.  
"Ready?" he asked. Dalla nodded, gasping as she felt him fill her again.   


 

*

 

He kissed her once more, distracting her as his hand thrust into her more forcefully. He could feel the membrane that was her virginity, tight around his knuckle. He wiggled his finger, stretching it to open her wider. It was the only way he could limit the amount of pain that she felt, and she would feel pain. She grunted in discomfort, and he slowed his movements. He could feel some give starting and smiled into the kiss. When she sighed and her hips tilted, he knew it was time to move on. He withdrew before returning with his index finger. She was so delightfully slick this time, the digit slipped right in. He continued to work her, delighting in the soft noises she made. He moved his mouth from hers to gently suckle at her breast, feeling the extra warmth and fluid his action produced. He felt her inner walls flutter around him and knew she was close. His hand stilled, and he pulled back from her breast.  
“Not yet,” he murmured when she mewled in disappointment. He waited until her arousal had subsided somewhat before resuming. He wanted to be inside her when she came, he needed to be. He laid gentle kisses along her collar bone, waiting patiently until he felt her membrane stretch enough.  
“We are almost there, little one,” he said softly in her ear as he withdrew his finger. He heard her breath flutter in her chest and rush of nervousness fill her heart. In a bid to distract her, his mouth returned to her breast, and she cried out as he pushed his middle finger into her.  


 

*

 

It was a strange sensation, one of being full when she felt him push his largest finger inside her. She couldn’t help but clench around the digit, making Thranduil grunt and gasp. He muttered her name reverently as his hand began to move once more. His finger probed deeply, his thumb brushing over her swollen pearl. She wanted to chase that bliss that she knew was hovering just out of reach. His hand thrust quickly in and out of her as his tongue swirled around her nipple. She could feel some discomfort as his finger worked inside her. She trusted him to know what he was doing and believed him when he said it would make it hurt less. His hand withdrew, and she felt something bigger at her entrance. He paused, allowing her to run her hand along his and feel two strong fingers poised to enter her.  
“This may hurt a little,” he whispered against her skin.  
"I trust you," she replied. Thranduil slowly pressed his fingers into her, pausing when she hissed slightly and resuming when her hips tilted towards his hand. It took a little while for him to work her body into accepting him, but she found nothing more arousing than the long moan he let out when it did. She felt his hand slip into her to the hilt, and his mouth returned to hers.  
“Dalla,” he sighed before kissing her. She moaned a little when she felt him part the two fingers slightly before closing them again. He did it again, parting them a little more this time. Her gasps and moans were swallowed by his kiss as he worked her. His thumb brushed against her pearl once more, and she whimpered.  
“Thranduil,” she sighed.  
“I know.”

She began to tremble as she felt herself building towards her peak, and Thranduil showed no signs of stopping this time. He scissored his fingers more, stretching her open in anticipation of what hovered just around the corner. His body shifted, so he was knelt between her legs, ready and waiting.  
“Keep going,” he murmured as her hips began to rock into him, desperately seeking her climax. She felt herself flutter around his digits, crying out in pleasure. The orgasm hit her with a blinding rush of white light behind her closed eyelids, she was only vaguely aware of Thranduil pulling his hand from her. Her mind was blissfully blank as Thranduil moved between her legs, pushing them open so he could settle more between them. Her whole body relaxed into the bed, and she was almost unaware of Thranduil poised at her entrance.  


 

She felt the blunt head of his cock brush against her folds and sighed happily, tilting her hips to meet him. He pushed forward, slipping in between them, and she felt the same pressure from before. Her heart beat a little quicker, and her hands gripped the bedsheets.  
“ _Hortalë elen_ ,” he whispered as he pressed forward more. It was uncomfortable as the head slipped inside her, but she felt no pain.  
“Forgive me,” he sighed into her ear before his hips snapped forward. A huge jolt of pain ran through her entire body, making her scream. He gathered her up into his arms and kissed her as he stilled inside her.  
“Forgive me,” he murmured over and over until her breathing slowed down and her body relaxed a little as the initial shock dissipated.  
“That’s it?” she whispered, “It’s done?”  
“Yes, little one,” he said softly, “I have claimed you. And you have given me a gift you bestow to no other.” They lay for a moment, joined and entwined as Thranduil stroked her hair, whispering to her in Sindarin. The pain slowly ebbed away until nothing remained other than a dull ache. She had felt full with two fingers, but this was something else. She glanced down to where they were joined. She couldn’t believe he had actually been able to fit inside her.  
“Does it still hurt?” Thranduil’s voice brought her gaze back to him.  
“Not so much,” she said quietly.  
“Good.”

 

He leaned into her, his forearms resting on either side of her head, his hips settling against her own. He kissed her gently as he pulled back a little. His hips then surged forward again, seating himself deeper inside her. She gasped, her arms coming up and hooking around his shoulders to anchor herself. He thrust back, letting out a deep groan as her legs lifted to hook around his waist.  
“Dalla,” he murmured, “You feel so tight...so warm….so good. I fear I will not last long.” His pace picked up, and he groaned. Her name fell from his lips like a prayer. One hand moved to her hips, holding her against him as he moved faster. Moans escaped him, and Dalla felt a rush of arousal at the sound. His eyes pressed shut tightly, and she suspected he was holding back and his control was hanging by a thread.  
“Thranduil,” she whispered, “I want you to cum.” Another moan.  
“Where?” he asked.  
“Inside me.” Another long, drawn out moan that turned into a whimper, and then another and another until he sank into her to the hilt and let out a roar. She felt a rush of heat hit inside her as he made a few lazy, shallow thrusts, emptying himself inside her as he went.

 

He rolled to one side, pulling her with him, their bodies still joined. Dalla stared at him in wonder. There had been times over the past month when she had wondered if they would even end up like this at all. And now it had. He had taken her, claimed her, filled her with his seed. She squeezed her internal muscles experimentally and was rewarded with another whimper from him, his mouth moving to her neck to kiss and suck at the flesh. One hand cupped her breast.  
“We should stop,” he breathed, even as his fingertips traced around her nipple, “Your body needs to recover.” She rocked her hips against him, making him groan.   
“More,” she whispered.  
“No, _melui nin_ , you will not thank me for it,” he said, “You need rest.”  
“I need you.”  
“You have me as I have you,” he replied, “But I swear to you, we will do this again and soon. But first, your body needs to heal.” He rolled her onto her back and leaned in to kiss her. He made to pull out but paused.  
“Your body does not seem intent on letting me go,” he chuckled, slipping one hand between them. Dalla gasped as his thumb strummed across her pearl. He gave a few short, stunted thrusts until he finally pulled out of her.

 

She watched in horror as his cock jerked up and slapped his lower stomach. Bright red blood was smeared across it and now across his skin. There seemed to be such a lot of it.  
“Wait here,” he said, rubbing on hand along her calf soothingly. He rose from the bed and padded across the room, leaving Dalla on the bed. Her body shivered at the sudden loss of warmth. She heard the sound of water being poured and looked in the direction he had gone in. He had his back to her, one arm working no doubt to clean himself. He set down a washcloth stained red before picking up another and a bowl of water. He turned and walked back towards her.  
“It looks far worse than it is,” he assured her after seeing the look in her eyes and sitting on the edge of the bed. He placed the bowl down on the bedside table and wet the cloth. Wringing it out, he brought it to her core, slowly wiping along her inner thighs. A small smile graced his face as he watched himself work. Dalla was watching him, parting her legs more as he got closer to her center.  
“Will I bleed for long?” she found herself asking, suddenly unsure about everything.  
“No,” he said, “I do not think you will. You will stop before dawn. I wish there were a way I could have prevented it from hurting at all."  
"I think it was perfect," she admitted. Thranduil smiled and leaned in to kiss her.  
“Thank you,” he said as he continued to clean smeared blood from her skin, “For giving me such a precious gift.” A few moments passed in silence as Thranduil continued to clean her, and Dalla lay there enjoying the King’s attentions. She had heard stories of wives feeling humiliated after their first times, but this was quite pleasurable, especially as he kissed her.

 

Soon, he had finished, and he returned the washcloth and bowl to their places. He climbed into the other side of the bed and drew Dalla to him, ensuring the blankets were wrapped around them.   
“You will be sore for a day or so,” he said softly, cradling her against his chest, his fingers tracing through her hair, “But when you are healed, I will show you the full extent of our intimacy. Now, sleep, it is still a few hours before dawn.” Dalla sighed and closed her eyes, shifting as close as possible to the Elven King, her cheek pressed against his skin. She felt content.

 

*

 

When Dalla awoke, she found herself still wrapped in the King’s embrace. One leg was draped over his whilst his strong arm encircled her back and waist, holding her to his side.  
“Good morning," he said softly as she raised her head to look at him.  
“Good morning,” she replied, shifting slightly to get closer to him. A dull throb between her legs made her hiss. He had not been exaggerating when he had said she would be sore. He rolled towards her, placing one hand between her legs and murmuring softly in Sindarin. The warmth from his palm seemed to flood into her, easing the tender feeling in her muscles. It was hard to believe what had happened between them, but it made Dalla's heart soar to know that she had surrendered her maidenhood to him, to the Elf she loved. Memories of her conversation with Sigrid and Tilda came flooding back to her. Her heart felt like it did a flip as she briefly considered telling him how she felt about him. To tell him that she loved him after giving up her virginity to him. She opened her mouth to speak but was disturbed by the sound of the door opening.

 

Letting out a frightened squeak, she hastily pulled on the covers to ensure she was not exposed. It was Menelya, Anira close behind her.  
“Good morning, My King,” Menelya said as she curtseyed, “My Lady.” Anira copied the gesture before the two maids split, eager to get their charges up and ready for the day. Thranduil pressed a quick kiss to Dalla’s lips before he disentangled himself from the blankets, treating Dalla to the delicious sight of his rear before she felt Anira tug at her arm. Gingerly, Dalla climbed out of bed and stepped towards the pile of clothes Anira had placed on a chair. She winced as she stepped and saw a concerned expression cross the elleth's face. Anira's gaze turned from Dalla to the bed behind her, and her eyes widened momentarily. Looking back over her shoulder, Dalla saw a large bloodstain on the bedsheets. That was all that was left of her virginity. Anira looked back to Dalla and continued to guide her to get dressed. Anira had chosen a beautiful deep blue gown that left Dalla’s shoulders exposed but little else, decorated with stunning silver embroidery. As Anira was brushing Dalla’s unruly locks into submission, she had watched Thranduil’s reflection in the mirror, admiring the shifting of unseen muscles as he raised his arms to pull on his shirt and coat with Menelya’s help. A powerful body for sure, but one that had trembled with both anticipation and pleasure when he had been buried inside her just a few hours earlier. She smiled a little as she watched him and felt her heartbeat quicken with love for him.

 

Once the maids had finished dressing them, the two elleths moved towards the bed, and Dalla's stomach dropped in fear. She watched as Anira bundled up the bloodstained sheet and began to carry it out of the room. By this afternoon, she knew, knowledge of her carnal relationship with the King would have spread like wildfire before the afternoon was done. For like much of her knowledge of carnal matters, gossip such of this came from one source, and one source alone, within the palace; the palace maids.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> Melui nin - my sweet  
> Ada - Father

Thranduil knew Gwend was watching him out the corner of her eye and fought off an amused smirk. They walked alongside Bard down the cobbled streets of Dale towards his latest achievement, Dale’s newly built library. Bard was talking proudly of the craftsmanship of the stone and thanking Thranduil for the many summers of training courtesy of the Elven King’s own builders for the young men of Dale. Behind them walked the rest of Thranduil’s Harem along with Tuigalen and Legolas. A library held little interest for the younger children who had elected to stay behind and play with the vast assortment of new playmates the Lords and Ladies had brought to the palace to meet them. Feredir had remained to watch over them and ensure they were not too rough. Thangonnas was sleeping off a substantial overindulgence in wine and mead as was Bard's son, Bain. Bard had said the two had left the feast the night before with the intention of 'painting the town red.' Regardless of the shade Dale now was, Gwend had been called away to deal with their wayward eldest son. She had found him, deep into his cups in the early hours of the morning. That had worked to Thranduil's advantage. The unavoidable smirk crept across his face as he recalled taking Dalla's virginity. Once again, her mere presence had made him abandon all carefully laid plans for her, he had resolved to court her slowly, truly learn more about her, but the feel of her skin against his, of her eager body, begging to be taken, all noble notions had escaped him.

 

What did not escape him, however, was the glances of the common folk towards the ladies of his Harem. Glances that were followed by whispering and the shaking of heads. He looked back over his shoulder. Dalla walked with her head down, a furious red flush to her cheeks.  
“Shame,” he heard a man mutter, "A fine-looking Lady, brought down to being a whore." Thranduil looked forward once more. Word had got out, it seemed. No doubt the sight of a blood-stained sheet being carried from his bedchamber had fanned the flames of gossip that already surrounded his newest lover. Word had reached Gwend, after all, before he had even presented himself at breakfast.  
“Gwend,” he said in a low voice, “Would you kindly escort Dalla forward, I feel she is in need of me.”  
“Yes, My King,” she said graciously, stepping backward. His heart pounded a little. Had claiming Dalla here been a misstep? Were they back in the Woodland Realm, no Elf would have thought any less of her, but here, he did not know. Dalla appeared at his side, head still bowed. A tear was on the verge of falling from her eye. He raised his hand and brushed it away with his thumb, smiling when the deep blue of her eyes turned towards him.  
“Walk tall, _melui nin_ ," he whispered, "Their opinions of you matter, not anymore.” She straightened slightly and nodded. Thranduil reached out and clasped her hand, lifting it to rest on his arm. She smiled softly at him before looking ahead. He noted a couple of shaken heads, but a simple glare from the Elven King silenced the wagging tongues. He would not allow them to make Dalla feel unworthy.

 

Rinion fell into step beside them, and Thranduil instantly felt waves of aggravation rolling from Dalla. She was not enjoying being followed so much, and perhaps Rinion was over-eager, but he had not left her side the entire visit so far. Thranduil trusted him, to watch over Dalla and keep her safe.  
“Ah, here we are!” Bard said, slowing his pace, “Welcome to the Dale library.” He gestured towards a large square building that stood where twenty years before the wall had been torn down by Azog’s war beasts. Dalla smiled. Of course, she was happy to see the library, she loved books. Bard led the way in as Thranduil took note of carved dragon scales on the archway before him. He had noticed it in several places so far. The people of Dale it seemed were taking great pride in their Dragon Slayer King. He felt Dalla's hand slip from his arm, and she stepped inside. He watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked and suppressed the urge to growl. Taking her that morning had been a delight, and his whole body yearned to repeat the experience. But she was now torn and tender, no doubt, he would have to seek his pleasure elsewhere for a few days until she was healed. The question now was where to seek it?

 

*

 

Thranduil knew he should have been paying attention to what the master builder was saying or at least pretending to, but his mind was elsewhere. As he walked down the aisle, admiring the tall shelves and the still-new leather binding of the books, his thoughts turned to the ladies of his Harem. Perhaps it was the fact that he had taken Dalla's virginity. Maybe just being back in Dale made him feel nostalgic, or some combination of the two that had him reliving the first times with each of them.  


 

_He had wanted Inariel from the moment he had laid eyes on her, a desire stirring in his loins that he had not felt in many years. Fiery, passionate eyes once blazing with fury were now heavy-lidded and relaxed as she reclined in the chair opposite him, a half-empty wine glass in her hand.  
“It is true then,” she said quietly, “The King’s wine is indeed potent, or perhaps it is just the company.” She leaned over and set the glass down on the floor, eyes locked with Thranduil’s. Her hands lifted to the ties holding her tunic closed and slowly pulled them loose, allowing the fabric to part, revealing a sliver of pale flesh. He swallowed nervously, watching as she shrugged off the garment, her eyes flicking over to Gwend as it fell to the floor. Thranduil glanced to his lover, who was raking her eyes over the huntress. Inariel gestured to Gwend to come over to her. Gwend rose to her feet, slowly walking, her hips swaying. Inariel sat up straight as Gwend came to a stop in front of her. Thranduil shifted in his seat as he watched her slowly gather up the skirts of Gwend’s dress and push them up. One foot came up to rest on the seat beside Inariel’s thigh, shortly followed by a breathy sigh from Gwend. He could not see, but he could hear the gentle lap of Inariel’s tongue as she tasted Gwend who began to moan and tilt her hips towards the other elleth’s mouth. _

 

_Without warning, Inariel had pushed Gwend to the ground and lain on top of her, kissing her. Thranduil felt his cock harden at the sight as each elleth fondled and caressed the other, exploring the gentle curves of each other with their fingers and tasting the other's mouth with their tongues. Inariel managed to wiggle her way free of her pants and boots, laying gloriously bare on the floor as she turned her attention to the fastenings on Gwend's dress. Soon both elleths lay naked on the ground, and Gwend took charge. She pushed Inariel onto her back and moved to straddle her head, her fingers running through the elleth's hair. Thranduil could idly watch no longer and quickly divested himself of his clothing. Moving onto the floor, he lay between Inariel's parted legs, admiring the faint sheen of arousal that coated her folds. Eagerly he leaned in, tasting her and moaning instantly. Inariel yelped, and her hips pushed towards his mouth. He held her legs apart as he lapped and sucked at her flesh, reveling in the way her body quivered with each stroke and her muffled cries.  
“Please,” she cried out, “Please my King, end this torture.” Thranduil had not the heart to deny her. Raising up onto his knees, he lifted her legs to rest up against his chest before sinking into her._

 

_She was deliciously wet and welcoming, and the King could not help but roar in pleasure as he began to thrust into her, gently at first but picking up power and speed as he went. Gwend turned herself, so she was facing him, able to lean in and kiss him as the body beneath them gave them both pleasure._  
“How is she, meleth nin?” Gwend asked.  
“Divine,” he growled as Inariel’s legs slipped from his chest, “Hot, wet and tight.” He leaned forward, his weight resting on his forearms as he pounded into her.  
“Yes!” he cried, “Inariel, yes! Do you want your King’s seed?” Inariel let out a muffled squeak and pulled away from Gwend.  
“Yes,” she panted, “Yes, I want it!” He came with a feral growl, his cock throbbing deep within her as he released. 

 

Thranduil blinked in surprise. He had not thought about his first time with Inariel in quite some time. Her laughter filled his ears, and he raised his gaze. She walked ahead of him, arm in arm with Vinga. Inariel had helped lift the darkness that had enveloped him following his wife's death, and for a long time, it had been the three of them; him, Gwend and Inariel. But then a century and a half ago, a party from Rivendell had arrived, scholars come to study artifacts unique to his realm and with them had been Vinga. She had come to explore and study the various tomes on Dwarven languages that his father had collected during his lifetime. Every ellon who had laid eyes on her had practically salivated. Much to her annoyance, they went out of their way to speak to her. Thranduil had taken great pleasure in watching her talk circles around them, leaving them dumbfounded and confused. It had worked, she had been left to her studies after a few months, his Silvan subjects did not like being made to feel foolish by the Noldor elleth.

 

He had found her admiring an ancient tapestry from Doriath one day, and he had felt her irritation at his presence immediately. She had no doubt heard of the Elven King and his Harem and suspected his intentions were of a carnal nature. Whilst the thought had occurred to him, he had been determined to present himself as the perfect host. So he had spoken to her of the tapestry’s origin and history, the surprise on her face was far more rewarding than mere physical release. Her expression had changed to one of desire when he had translated the ancient Quenya sigils that decorated the outer edge. He had walked away from that encounter with a satisfied look on his face that prompted many questions from Gwend and Inariel. Thranduil was used to his physical appearance and tails of his prowess as a warrior earning him the admiration of both elleth and ellon alike. His mind had never been challenged like this before, and that is what had drawn him to Vinga. He had allowed her access to his private collection of books and scrolls on all the subjects she desired, they had passed many an evening working through translations of ancient texts together, often resulting in him finding Gwend and Inariel pouting at his inattention. Of course, he always made it up to them. Slowly he had found his mind turning more and more to visions of Vinga laid out beneath him, her long, pale fingers clutching at him as he drove her to ecstasy. It became difficult to concentrate, especially as her mind bombarded him over and over with the same thoughts. Finally, he could take no more and, after discussion with Gwend and Inariel, he had extended an invitation to her to meet him in his chambers. The invitation had been loaded with the promise that the subject he intended to study was in fact her.

 

_She had accepted, coming to him dressed in a positively indecent gown that showcased her soft curves and delicate décolletage. His mouth had watered at the thought of what lay beneath the translucent fabric. To his credit, he had at least attempted to keep up the pretense of continuing their study of his kingdom's most ancient artifacts. Vinga had made no such endeavor, taking every opportunity to touch him, her fingers brushing against his when he passed her items, her hand resting on his thigh as he showed her passages in books. She had not so much as granted him anything but a chaste kiss to his cheek when he had escorted her to her room one evening. It had almost driven him mad, trying to control his urges. He had not felt that way since he had first laid eyes on Gwend. It had been blessed relief when Vinga had leaned in and kissed his mouth.  
“Forgive me,” she had whispered, “I could not help myse…." He had cut her off with a kiss of his own. His fingers gently tracing down the column of her throat and over her collar bones. When they had reached the edge of her dress, he had paused only for Vinga to reach up and pull it down herself, exposing her breast to him. Their kiss had become heated, his fingers molding themselves to the curve of her breast, and she had sighed in pleasure at his touch._

 

_How they moved from the desk to his bed, he could never recall, but the trail of clothing was evident enough. They had become a tangle of limbs in the sheets. Touch and taste and smell and sight and sound. All their senses came into play as he sank into her. He had torn the sheets from the bed as he had made love to her, and she had sunk her teeth into his shoulder as she had climaxed. She had agreed to join his Harem in the afterglow when all the world save them had ceased to exist._

 

Another smile graced Thranduil’s face as his pace slowed a little. Vinga was unique. The only Noldo in his Harem, and also the mother of his first daughter. Whilst he had obviously felt love for his three sons already, nothing compared to what he had felt the moment Tuigalen had been placed in his hands. Of course, he had been blessed with three more daughters and another son since then, but the memory of Tuigalen's birth was the strongest. He turned his attention to the tomes upon the shelves, wondering what other memories might spring forth. His contemplative mood was all too rare these days, and he was enjoying it.   
“What about these?” Finnel’s soft, clear voice drifted over the case beside him.  
“Ah, those may not be suitable for a lady of your refinement, they are...” an older female voice spoke.  
“Explicit?” Finnel suggested eagerly.  
“Well, yes.”

Smirking, Thranduil lowered three tomes at once, catching Finnel unawares. She jumped, gasping before her sweet smile spread across her face when she caught sight of him.  
“My King,” she purred.  
“My lady.”

 

_Finnel’s seduction had been far and away the most fun. Her father, Lord Naracion, had come to the King’s Halls for a yearlong visit and brought Finnel with him. Although Thranduil had heard of her, he had never met her and had been enchanted by her beauty. Almost immediately Naracion had begun touting Finnel's virtues as a potential wife and Queen, prompting many an eye roll from the Elven King. He had no interest in finding another wife; he had Gwend after all, and if she did not take the position, no one else would do. But Naracion controlled a vital portion of the Woodland Realm, allowing safe passage and trading, so Thranduil allowed him to continue his futile efforts. He did not encounter Finnel outside of her father’s company for three months until one day, he had managed to shirk his duties early enough to spend some quiet time in the library. Recent events had meant his ladies had been somewhat occupied. Gwend and Inariel both had young children to care for, and Vinga had recently become pregnant again, the demands on their time meant they were not available to their King’s beck and call as they usually were. He was beginning to feel a little frustrated but knew this was of his own making. So he had found himself in a secretive corner of the library, home to the most erotic fiction the Elves had ever written. He was searching for a specific title, one that he enjoyed greatly in the past and wanted to read again. But it seemed to have been mislaid._

 

_As he had continued to search, his sharp hearing had detected a female's quick breathing. Peering around the corner, he had found Finnel. She had been stood with her back to him, the book he had been searching for in her hands. He had been surprised, her father had presented her as the epitome of decorum, but here she was, sordid book in hand, her heart racing. Stepping silently, he had drawn closer to her, spying the passage she was reading. He smirked, three females, engaging together, always piqued his interest too._  
“There are other ways to find pleasure beyond dry parchment in a dusty library,” he said softly. Finnel gasped, snapping the book shut and spinning around to face him. For a second, she stared at him wide-eyed before a smirk of her own crept across her fair face.  
“Is that an invitation, my King?” she asked. Her eyes sparkled, and he could see the thoughts in her mind. She had heard of his Harem and was intrigued by it. No thought was given to the crown and title her father pursued for her. He reached out and traced his fingertips along the bottom of her ear.  
"Perhaps," had been his response. Thus had begun a secret courtship, clandestine meetings in that hidden corner of the library where Thranduil had introduced her to sexual acts she had never dreamed of, but only on paper. He deigned to know her heart and mind first. 

 

_The year-long visit was over before he realized and Naracion was preparing to leave the Halls dissatisfied. Thranduil had felt torn. On the one hand, he was glad to see the back of Naracion; the ellon had done little except be an annoyance and had managed to slyly insult Gwend, Inariel, and Vinga. Thranduil had let the insults slide because he had found himself enjoying his time with Finnel. Although inexperienced, she had proven adventurous, hanging on every word of their discussions and returning his kisses with passion. Thranduil had held back from taking her to his bed despite her unspoken pleas. The feel of her body pressed against his had been almost too much to bear, and his thoughts turned to inviting her to become one of his Harem. Knowing her love of the written word, he had composed a letter detailing what he loved and admired about her, ending it with the declaration he would have her as one of his courtesans if she would accept. Menelya had been tasked with delivering the letter, she alone could be trusted not to peek at its contents. Hours had passed, and Thranduil had resigned himself to an evening of solitude, though he briefly considered a visit to his Harem to see his new-born daughter, Areth. A knock at his door had put a stop to that idea. Waiting on the other side was Finnel, his letter in hand. She had accepted his offer, and that night he took her to his bed. Although he had claimed the virginity of many elleths over the years, none had been as enthusiastic as Finnel. Their frank discussions on sexuality had opened her mind to what lay beyond the short-term pain, a tool he would later use with both Mae and Dalla. Her cries of pleasure had echoed long into the night, and the next morning, with Finnel's permission, Thranduil had given her father the blood-stained sheets. For Naracion’s persistent actions had too aggravated his daughter’s temper. She had held no desire to be Queen and had only followed his scheming as a dutiful daughter. Thranduil gained a new lady to know and love, and Naracion had returned home with nothing to show for his efforts save one stained bedsheet. He had never returned to the King’s Halls, not even to meet his granddaughter, and all Finnel’s letters to him remained unanswered. It pained Thranduil to see Lothiriel so rejected by her grandfather, but it was all Naracion's own doing. Many in the Woodland Realm considered Thranduil's interests in their daughters as an honor, not so Naracion._

 

His thoughts returning to the here and now, Thranduil moved swiftly around the bookcase to Finnel who smiled in anticipation. The woman she had been speaking to quickly scurried away.  
“Is there something you wished to ask me?” Finnel spoke suggestively. She could read the King’s expression as well as she could any book, and she knew what plagued his mind. Thranduil leaned in, so his lips were a mere hairsbreadth from her ear.  
“I find myself in a retrospective mood,” he whispered, “Perhaps this evening, you would care to join me, and we can revisit our first night?" A soft noise from Finnel told him she found this request more than pleasing.  
“I can think of several nights I should like to revisit,” she murmured in response, turning her head to face him. She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. Thranduil was just preparing to press his mouth more firmly against hers when there was a sharp scream, followed by a crash. Thranduil immediately pulled back.  
“Dalla,” he said gently before quickly striding towards the noise, the sounds of others running surrounding him.

 

He found Dalla sat on the floor before several toppled bookcases, angrily swatting away Rinion’s offered hand. She scrambled to her feet before Thranduil could aid her and turned on the guard,  
“Must you stand so close?” she snapped, “For pity’s sake, Rinion, I do not require another shadow!” She turned and stormed off, leaving a stunned Rinion behind.  
“What happened?” Thranduil demanded.  
“I did not see her turning until it was too later,” Rinion explained, looking down, “She….bounced off me and into the bookcases. Forgive me, my King, I could see Lady Tuigalen was unescorted.”  
“It was true Ada,” Tuigalen immediately jumped in, “Legolas and I got separated.” Thranduil dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand.  
“Very well, an accident,” he said, “Rinion, follow Lady Dalla, and try to maintain a reasonable distance. Wait outside her rooms; perhaps, I think she is unused to the lack of privacy she is being afforded."  
“Yes, my King,” Rinion said, bowing his head and hurrying off after his charge. Thranduil let out a sigh as the ladies once again dispersed to resume their examination of the library, Finnel linking arms with Tuigalen and leading her away.  
“Well, in the last day, Dalla’s managed to drum up more talk than she ever did in twenty-five years,” Bard mused as he examined the fallen bookcases. He stopped by Thranduil’s side as two men began fixing the mess.  
“Barbed words with a lord and some damaged bookcases are hardly idle gossip,” Thranduil said, “Speak plainly Bard, we are both far too old to talk in circles.”  
“There isn’t a man or woman in Dale that doesn’t know what you did last night,” Bard said bluntly.  
“Actually it was early this morning,” Thranduil chuckled.  
“Thranduil!”  
“You sent her to join my harem, what did you believe would happen?”  
“I didn’t believe you would expose her to such ridicule by taking her virginity here," Bard snapped, "I had hoped you more discreet, in fact, I know you to be more discreet."  
“It is not my discretion that I would be questioning here if I were you,” Thranduil warned, “Someone from within your palace has taken this occurrence out amongst your people. Look within, not at me, or next time, it may be one of your subjects to common gossip. Gossip that can topple Kings." The silence stretched between the two, and the look on Bard's face told Thranduil; clearly, he already knew that loose lips ran rampant in his court.  
“Noted,” Bard said, “Perhaps we should move on to the barracks.”  
"An excellent idea."  


 

*

 

When Thranduil returned to Bard’s palace, he was pleased to see Rinion had indeed remained outside Dalla's rooms. Bard was a new King, his palace not as strict, and Dalla was finding her freedoms greatly restricted. He suspected the critical looks and words of Dale's population also weighed heavily on her mind. Bard was right, perhaps this had not been the ideal place to take her virginity. Home, in his bed, would have afforded them more privacy and discretion, but the moment had been so perfect, he had no regrets about what he had done.   


 

Rinion turned when he saw Thranduil approach.  
“My King,” he said, bowing his head, "Lady Dalla locked the door as soon as she entered. I heard her moving about, but I believe she is now resting."  
“Very well, I shall rouse her, it will soon be time to dress for dinner,” Thranduil said as he came to a stop. Rinion stepped back, and Thranduil knocked twice on the door.  
“Dalla, open the door,” he said clearly. Silence was his answer.  
“Dalla,” he spoke again, his voice more forceful. Still, no answer. He placed his hand upon the door. Claiming her body had an unspoken advantage, it allowed him to form a small bond to her, increasing his perception of her presence, emotions, and thoughts. He was not pleased to find her presence lacking on the other side of the thick oak door. He took two large steps back before raising his foot and breaking the wood around the lock, making Rinion jump. Forcing the door open, Thranduil could see no sign of Dalla.  
“Dalla!” he called her name as he hurried into the closet. No sign of her. Coming back out into the main room, he found Rinion emerging from the bathroom, shaking his head. The open window caught the King's attention, and he stalked over. His heart sank as his eyes scanned around. This was an unexpected blind spot, no City Guards or Woodland ones to be seen. His fingers ran over the wooden sill. If Dalla had opened this window for air, someone could have gotten in undetected.  
“My King?” Rinion spoke. Thranduil turned to face him.  
“Rouse my sons and the guards,” he said, “Find her.”


	19. Chapter 19

Thangonnas groaned as bright sunlight hit his face. At that moment, he regretted accepting Bain's invitation to sample all of what Dale had to offer; wine, mead, and more than a few willing bed partners. Bed optional.

“ _Thele_ Dalla certainly has excellent timing," he muttered as he headed down the palace steps, "Brother if you even see me drinking again, you have permission to slap me."

“You said the same thing last week,” Legolas replied from his side.

“And the week before that,” Feredir added from the other.

"You have both made your point," Thangonnas snarled, "Now I am tired, and my head hurts. Let us just find her before _Adar_ tears the whole city apart."

 

Ahead of them, their father was full of rage and thunder, sending Dale’s common folk scattering before him. Bard was close behind, desperately trying to calm the irate Elven King. Thranduil did not seem to hear a word as he ordered his soldiers to begin searching every building, outhouse, and stable within the city walls. The sound of a door being kicked open sent a jolt of pain through Thangonnas' skull. He winced, definitely regretting drinking so much the night before. His father's thunderous voice echoed off the buildings around them."Thangonnas!" The General hurried forward.

"I want every inch of this city searched, we do not rest until she has been found," Thranduil growled out. Thangonnas nodded in acknowledgment. The Elven King, naturally, showed a certain level of care towards all of them, even Thangonnas despite him being well past his majority, but this was unprecedented.

“I want the city gates sealed as well,” he continued, “No one leaves without my knowing of it." Thangonnas cast a glance at King Bard on his father's other side.

“Yes _Adar_ ,” he said before falling back to relay the commands to his brothers.

"Thranduil, I must ask that you stay this madness," Bard tried to calm his friend. "You are terrifying my people! Your soldiers burst into their homes to search... I fear you are causing more damage than you can possibly repair!"

“I care not,” Thranduil snarled, coming to a stop, “I only care to find that which is mine.” He leaned in to look Bard directly in the eye and to his credit, the Dragon Slayer did not blink or look away.

 

Thranduil withdrew, directing another group of soldiers towards a further building. Bard sighed, watching as Thranduil's three sons skirted around them before splitting up.

“Da, what’s happening?” Bain’s voice came from behind him. He looked exhausted still and ill, all self-inflicted though, Bard knew.

“Dalla has gone missing,” Bard explained. “You don’t think...”

“No,” Bard cut him off, “But Thranduil will not listen to reason. Will you go look for her?” Bain nodded.

"Take the fastest horse. Thranduil has ordered the city gates be shut so you must be quick," Bard said, "I shall go attempt to calm the Elven King.”

“Yes, Da.”

 

*

 

Late into the afternoon, the soldiers searched and found nothing. No sign, neither hide nor hair of Dalla could be found. Thranduil sat on the stairs of Bard's palace, staring out across the city. His children were upset, as were the ladies of his Harem. He felt utterly lost. Surely if she were within the city walls, she would have been found by now. They would need to question the guards on the city gates, lest she had been taken out of Dale.

“Will you listen now that your soldiers are done terrifying my people?” Bard’s voice came from behind him. Thranduil rose to his feet and turned.

“I will do whatever I deem necessary to find and protect Dalla,” Thranduil said carefully, his tone measured, “Is that not why she chose to come to me? To find some stability and safety that within your city she could not?”

"I begin to wonder whether sending you a maiden was a sound idea now," Bard admitted, "But Dalla's circumstances were extraordinary, and I did not suspect you would feel so strongly for her in so short a time.” Thranduil stepped away from him. Bard read him too well and was probing at thoughts Thranduil had been dwelling on all day but had no inclination to reveal just yet.

“And what would you have me hear?" Thranduil asked. Bard opened his mouth to speak but looked away from the Elven King at the sound of horse hooves on the cobbled street, and people hurrying out of the way. Thranduil turned to follow his gaze. Bain was just slowing his horse to a stop, and over his shoulder, Thranduil could see Dalla's deep blue eyes watching him.

 

 

Thranduil barely contained his sigh of relief as Bain dismounted his horse and held out his arms to help Dalla get down. Instead, he breathed her name like a prayer as he hurried down the steps towards her. He noted the straight line of her mouth, she was not pleased about something, but he did not care. She was safe and returned to him. As soon as he reached her, he placed his hands on her hair.

“Dalla, you are safe,” he murmured, “Where have you been?” It hurt when she pulled out of his grasp and scowled at him.

“One afternoon is all I wanted, one afternoon in peace,” she said, “Away from you, from courtiers and courtesans, and I am told you tear a city apart.”

“You were gone with no word or warning, what was I to do?” he demanded, shocked that she would speak to him this way. Dalla had always been so deferential to him, accepting of his role in her life now. To speak to him in this way was unheard of, not to mention disrespectful given that they were surrounded by people, his own sons emerging from the palace.

 

Dalla cast a glance to Bard. “Did you not tell him?” she asked, her tone more softened to the King she had known all her life.

"I tried, but he would not listen," Bard said, “Next time, speak to him directly, not make your escape out the open window.” He looked vaguely amused, which annoyed Thranduil further.

“Speak to me of what?” he demanded, matching each step Dalla took.

“I just wanted to visit the graves of my parents,” she said.

“And you felt the need to escape to do so? Why, if you had said so, I would have arranged for Rinion...”

"That is the problem!" she snapped, "Rinion, any guard would have been too much. I wanted privacy and peace, which you said I would have, but Rinion has been no more than a few feet from me at all times, and it is suffocating!"

“You no longer get to decide what is in your interest!” he said firmly, rising to his full height, “You are part of my Harem, and if I say you require a guard, then you shall have one!" She scowled, and he saw blue flames flash in her eyes. Her jaw set and she looked him in the eye. He could almost see the moment her patience stretched too far and snapped.

“Go fuck yourself, Thranduil.”

 

The words rendered all around them silent, even the birds stopped singing. Thranduil's jaw dropped. He had NEVER been spoken to in such a manner before.

“What did you say?!” he snarled, covering the small distance between them in two strides.

“I said go...”

“I know what you said!” he snapped through gritted teeth, "I am allowing you to change your mind." Dalla took two steps backward.

“Go. Fuck. Yourself,” she repeated before turning her back to him and marching up the palace steps. He could feel waves of indifference coming from her, in such stark contrast with the adoration he had felt that morning when he had held her in his arms. Before he could blink, she was gone, slipping quickly inside the palace and leaving him speechless before the steps.

Sound came rushing back, and his gaze remained fixed on the palace doors. He could feel the rage growing inside him. How dare she! After all, he had done for her in so short a time, she dared speak to him this way. He stormed up the steps.

“ _Adar! Adar!_ ” Legolas and Feredir tried to stop him, but he shouldered his way through them and into the palace, leaving a stunned crowd gathered outside.

 

*

 

Dalla paced her rooms in anger, not helped by the sight of the broken lock on the door. Now she had no way of keeping him out. How dare Thranduil treat her as if she were in a strange city! This was her city, this was her home, not his. She knew this city, she knew these streets. She stopped by the window and pushed it open again. Sitting on the sill, she looked out. She had spent twenty years walking these streets, helping to rebuild it after Smaug had laid waste to it. Thranduil thought her so delicate, but beneath her soft skin was a soul of steel. Like her mother, and her mother's mother and every woman who had experienced the poverty of life that had followed them from Laketown to Dale, Dalla was far from weak. A King he may be, but she was not a meek little mouse who ran at the first sign of the master returning home. The guard was unnecessary, she thought, she knew these people. Though perhaps, allowing Dalla the bargeman's daughter to speak rather than Dalla the Lady had been a poor decision. She had never experienced such anger.

So many parts of her old life had been cut away. To also face the disdain of those who now looked down on her had become unbearable. It had been so different that morning, safely ensconced in his arms, all she had felt was love for him. Dalla tried to be patient with his demands, but everything had become so stifling that his hands on her when she was returned to him had been intolerable. She knew that her reaction to his touch, her harsh words, had been disgraceful, but she needed to breathe!

She could hear angry footsteps marching down the hall towards her and knew her reckoning was close at hand. She had not disobeyed the King before, nor had any of the other Ladies to her knowledge. She did not know what to expect. The sight of him looming in her doorway had her springing back to her feet and bowing her head momentarily. She felt regret but still angry, swirling together like a whirlpool of emotion that could so easily drag her under. Her eyes met his, and he stepped into the room.

“Tell me why you have felt the need today to treat me so,” he said, stepping in and closing the door, “Or do you plan to escape out the window once more.”

“I have no intention of leaving,” she said plainly, “I have done what I wished.”

"Yes, and tell me, Dalla, should I expect this behavior from you every time you take a fancy to something?” he asked, “Do I need to place guards in the servant corridors, lest you decide to take a moonlit ride through the forest?”

“I would not do something so dangerous,” Dalla snapped, insulted that he thought she had no concept of the darkness that dwelt in Mirkwood.

“No? But you would flee from my protection and out into a city where anything could happen to you?”

“This is my home! I am in no danger here!”

"Yes, you are!" his voice raised, and Dalla fought the urge to shrink back, "You belong to me, and that puts you in genuine danger! Any desperate man out there could see you as a means to coin and power with the right threats."

“These are my people! They would do no such thing!”

“Perhaps,” Thranduil stalked closer, and Dalla was taken back momentarily to the first time they had met. When he had stripped her naked and inspected his new prize.

"They may, even, consider you of no value to me," he continued, "Not now I have taken your maidenhood, and you told me to...how did you phrase it? Go fuck myself?"

 

The sound of him saying 'fuck' sent involuntary shivers down Dalla's spine and she closed her eyes. If she could not see him, perhaps his power over her would wane.

“Tell me, Dalla,” his voice had dropped dangerously and seductively low, and Dalla no longer knew how he felt, “Did your father ever spank you when you disobeyed him?”

"No," she breathed without realizing.

“Then perhaps I should correct that shortcoming.”

“You would not dare!” she said, shocked that he would ever do such a thing.

“Try me,” his voice still low and impossibly deep.

 

Before she knew it, he had taken hold of her wrist and tugged her into his arms. He sat on her bed and hauled her across his knee, holding her in place with one arm. She was shocked, he was actually going to do this. Cool air hit the back of her legs as he smoothly whipped up the skirts of her dress, exposing her to his gaze.

“Wait, Thranduil, stop!” she struggled against him, propping herself up a little on her hands, “My King!” She heard the swish before the sharp contact of his palm on her fleshy rear. She froze. It wasn’t painful like she thought it would be. Another swat and she felt a jolt run through her body. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. He laid out several firm blows, each one stinging as much as the last. Tears stung her eyes when he finished.

 

She didn't fight him when he lifted her from his lap. He brought her to straddle his legs, his palm gently caressing her reddened flesh, the heat of his skin almost soothing. She sobbed a little, more from shock at his actions than pain. He pressed his brow against hers and gently hushed her as she clung to his clothes.

“I did not want to do that,” he said softly, “But you must understand, you are Dalla of Dale no more. You are now Dalla of the Woodland Realm, you are mine. Many would hurt you because of it, little one. _**I**_ care about you greatly, and your pleas did nothing to stop me." She nodded; finally, understanding his anger. If her cries and pleas for mercy did not move him, they most certainly would not stop anyone else.

"Now, can I trust you to behave?" he asked gently. Dalla nodded again.

“Yes, my King,” she said quietly. She felt the need to be held by him and leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“There now,” he murmured into her hair before pressing a kiss to her cheek, "When we return home, I shall see about arranging some defense lessons for you. In the meantime, I wish for you to keep your guard." Dalla nodded again.

"And if you wish to revisit your parents' graves, _hortalë elen_ , you do not have to speak the words,” he said.

 

Dalla pulled back slightly and looked up at him curiously.

"I believe you have had some indication already, that I have the ability to read minds, should I choose too" he explained, "If you wish for something but do not feel you can say the words, think them. I will hear.” She leaned in and kissed him.

"Then I am forgiven?" he asked. Dalla nodded and kissed him again. He happily accepted her kiss, laying back with her resting on his chest. Her fingers ran through his hair, tracing perilously close to his ears. He gently but firmly seized her wrist.

“Not yet, _melui nin_ ,” he whispered, “You are not healed, but I promise, you and I shall couple again, and soon.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> thanfin pen - flame-haired one  
> gwinig - baby  
> naneth - mother  
> Echui - The Awakening (non-canon, the Elvish equivalent of puberty)  
> Hortale elen - Quenya, shooting star, lit. speeding star

Dalla took her meal in her room that evening. Between the circulating rumors, the incident at the library, and Thranduil's reaction to her slipping Rinion's watch, she did not feel like being under further scrutiny. She also dismissed Anira early. She desperately wanted some semblance of her old life, and Anira had barely had a day off for the last month.

"Go, enjoy yourself," she had told the elleth, "I am sure one of the off duty guards would accompany you to a tavern if you wished. The mead here is beautiful and sweet, and all visitors should sample it." Reluctantly, Anira had gone. Less than half an hour later, Menelya herself had come by to inform Dalla that if she should require anything, Rinion was to come fetch her, King Thranduil's orders. Dalla had rolled her eyes, and Menelya had fought poorly to not smirk at Dalla's blatant rebellion against Thranduil's rules.

 

The King’s personal maid brought Dalla her supper and took the dishes away again later on, but for the most part, Dalla was left to her own devices, and she was happy for it. The only sound she heard all evening, apart from her turning the pages of her book, was Rinion as he shifted his weight. But he was outside the door, where Dalla had wanted him this whole time.

She was just beginning to think about settling into bed for the night when a chorus of female voices sounded on the hallway. Rising from her seat, she went to her door and opened it, revealing Gwend, Inariel, and Vinga on the other side.

"Dalla! We missed you this evening,” Inariel said, “Everyone was hoping to see you at dinner.” "Given what's happened in the last day, I felt it was better to stay out of sight," Dalla explained.  
“You have certainly become the most entertaining thing that has happened here for a while,” Gwend added, “May we come in?”   
"Yes, of course," Dalla said, stepping aside and allowing them entry.

"Rinion, if you require rest, Feredir is in need of some task to occupy him," Gwend turned her attention to the guard.  
“I am fine, my lady,” he said, “Thank you.”

"Looks like another night of board games with Mirima for Feredir then," Inariel observed as she followed Vinga into the room. The two of them immediately sat themselves on the edge of Dalla's bed as Gwend closed the door behind her.

 

The three of them pinned Dalla with a knowing look.

"Well?" Inariel asked eventually, "What did the King do? We have all about heard what you said."

"That was some rather colorful language," Vinga added, "I do not think the King has ever been told to...what was it again?"  
“Go fuck himself,” Inariel said, a salacious grin on her face.

"Yes, thank you, Inariel," Gwend said quickly, "And Dalla, do not give the King ideas. All it will take is one glass of wine too many, and he may just attempt it."

"And if he does not, Thangonnas certainly will,” Inariel chuckled.

"Yes, well, the less said there, the better," Gwend muttered, "What I am more interested in is how the King dealt with you."

Dalla bit her lip and looked away. She was not sure what was more embarrassing, the fact that Thranduil had felt the need to spank her as if she were a wayward child or the fact that she had enjoyed it.

"Does it get any easier?" she asked, "Being part of this Harem, obeying his rules?"  
“Easier? My dear, Inariel has stepped out of line no less than three times this past month,” Gwend said, “Myself as well. And we have all felt the King’s hand in punishment.”

"He calls it punishment," Inariel said, "But I have never viewed it as such."  
“You mean he...”  
“He has spanked all of us in our time,” Gwend said, “Some of us more recently than others. I told you once that the King is a practitioner of many different methods of pleasure, and he must explore them one by one with each of us to find where our own tastes lie. You have come to him with virtually no experience, you both need to discover what is pleasurable for you, Dalla." She smiled, and Dalla could not help but recall the night before when she had found sexual ecstasy at the hands of both the King and his Chief Courtesan.

 

She had enjoyed it, very much so, and she wanted to experience it again, almost as much as she longed to spend a night alone with the King, exploring their newfound intimacy. Inariel raised an eyebrow as she saw the looks pass between the two ladies. "Oh, so what did happen after you left with the King last night?” she asked, a feral grin on her face. Gwend shook her head and waved a hand.

"Nothing we have not done together, dear sister," she said, walking over and sitting on the opposite side of the bed, "And nothing that should be discussed. We all know that Vinga is not so inclined as we are.”

“Do not hold back on my account,” Vinga said, “If I feel uncomfortable, I shall make myself scarce.”

"What say we talk about the one thing all four of us share in common," Gwend said, "After all, it was only this very morning that Dalla experienced the King fully. I would care to know how she felt."

“Yes, tell us,” Inariel said, “I often wonder what it would have been like to lose my maidenhood to the King.”

"You were not a virgin?" Dalla asked, moving over to perch on the final empty corner of her bed. "Oh, no, that was a time long since passed before I met the King on a hunt," the elleth said, smiling, "I do not regret it, however. The ellon was a fine one, and sometimes, I even miss him."

"He no longer resides in the Woodland Realm?”

"He no longer resides in Middle Earth," Inariel said, uncharacteristically quietened, "He perished, in the Battle of the Five Armies." She looked down, her hands clasped in her lap, and her shoulders slumped.

 

“Thenion was indeed a good ellon,” Gwend said, reaching over and clasping Inariel's hand, "He was a good friend to the King, and an excellent mentor to his sons. He is missed greatly and most deeply.

We owe him much, for it was his noble sacrifice that saved all who dwell within this city, including our beloved new sister.”  
“You are right,” Vinga added, “Wise as always.”

"Yes, besides, what I felt for Thenion was but a fleeting fancy compared to my love for our King," Inariel said, straightening up, "I have loved him for almost two thousand years. I was honored to bare him a daughter who is more precious to me than every star in the sky. No husband could have treated me the way he does." There were murmurs of agreement from the other two ladies.

"No husband would have allowed me to continue my studies when our children were not yet in their majority," Vinga added, "Oh, I could name a dozen honorable ellon dwelling within Imladris, who would give their right arm to have called me wife. But they would have meant as servant, to serve them and raise their children while I put aside my own wants and desires. I bore Thranduil Elven-King his first daughter, and still, I completed my study of the Ereborian dialect.”

"We can all agree, I think, that we possess far more freedom as the King's concubines than ever we would have been given as wives,” Gwend added.

"So, say you!" Inariel laughed, "There has been no other ellon for you; you were the King's first, and if his father had not stopped him, his only. We are not deluded, dear sister; for tomorrow, the King could decide he wants one elleth alone for the rest of his days, and it would always be you.” Gwend flushed slightly.

 

"He asked again, did he not?" Vinga questioned her.

"Asked what?" Dalla asked.

"The King has asked that I cast aside the title of Chief Courtesan multiple times, and take up the mantle of wife and Queen,” she said, “I have always refused.”

"There was a time when you would have said yes," Inariel pointed out.  
“To say yes now, would be disrespectful to Anameleth,” Gwend said, “Our Queen was a fine one, and far more suited to the task than I. But you are right, Inariel, once, when I was young and naive, and desperately in love with him, I did say yes.”

"By all the Valar, I recall the two of you running away together!” Inariel said, “Oropher was furious!”  
"Aye, but we returned, and he was wed within the week," Gwend said gently, "I wanted to hate her, but she became my truest friend, right until the end." She took in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes.

 

Inariel leaned across the bed and embraced the elleth, pressing a kiss to her cheek and stroking her hair soothingly. Dalla, on the other hand, remained rooted to the spot. Her heart felt like it was cracked and burning with envy. She knew the King and Gwend shared a deep love for one another, but she had never entertained the possibility that the King might one day decide he no longer wished to keep a harem and may devote himself solely to one female.

Her stomach roiled in jealousy that Thranduil would choose Gwend over her. She quickly forced the thought away, knowing it was foolish. Inariel had spoken of events that happened in a past Age. The King was never going to disband his harem for one single mortal woman. But she could not push past the unease she felt.

Inariel was ferociously independent, the others all had friends and family to return to should Thranduil make such a decision. She had nothing. No family to take her back, no friends who could support her. He was all she had in this world, and it made her feel sick.

"Dalla, are you quite well?" Vinga asked gently.

"I am tired," she lied, "It has been a trying day, and I would like to rest."

"Of course," Gwend said, extracting herself from Inariel's arms and rising to her feet, "We merely wanted to ensure you were well.

Sleep well, sister, and we shall see you at breakfast. I hope."

Dalla nodded, rising to her feet to see them out.

"Do you need Menelya at all?" Gwend asked as they reached the door."No, thank you," Dalla replied, "I shall see you on the morrow. Goodnight."

 

*

 

Thranduil sank back into the pillows, his eyes closed, focussing solely on the sensation of Finnel riding him into sweet oblivion. Her round hips beneath his hands, her luscious thighs squeezing his sides, her sweet mouth panting and moaning, her fingernails scraping the skin on his chest. She was so close, he could feel it, her movements becoming sloppy as she tightened around him.

"Thranduil," she moaned as she picked up her pace, "Please. Please, I need it." He smirked and opened his eyes. Her skin was flushed a deep pink, her eyes sparkling like stars. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he flipped them over. He pushed her legs up to her chest and straddled her. Immediately she cried out as he pressed deeper inside her.  
“Tell me what you need,” he growled.

"You," she cried, "I need you, your seed..." He leaned in and kissed her as he pounded into her, more animal than Elf. Her body stiffened beneath him, and he felt her inner muscles flutter around him. He pushed as deeply into her as he could go, his release coming fast and hard. She screamed in pleasure, and he was satisfied to think that half the city had heard her. His lovely Finnel, always so vocal.

 

As she came down, panting heavily, he leaned back, allowing her legs to part and cradle him against her body. He leaned over her, his weight resting on his forearms as he rested his brow against hers. Her own slender arms wrapped around his neck, and her bright green eyes looked deep into his own sky blue ones.

He pressed a kiss to her swollen lips as he rocked his hips into her, relishing her whimper. "You have something you wish to say?” he whispered gently when he parted from her. Finnel blushed.

"Be not afraid," he said, "You know if you have a desire, you only need speak of it."

"I fear the timing is not right," she confessed.

"No, but I may grant it when the timing is," he said before gathering her up in his arms and rolling onto his back, so she was above him once more.

“Now tell me, _thanfîn pen_ , what does your heart desire?" he murmured, gently pulling her close enough to kiss once more.

"I want another child,” she whispered against his lips.  
“Oh.”  
“I knew the timing was not right,” she sighed, climbing off him. Instantly Thranduil missed her warmth and quickly gathered her back into his arms.

 

"Aye, it is poor timing at this moment," he said honestly, tilting her chin, so she was looking him in the eye, "Mae is due to give birth very soon, Dalla is still settling in and Idhren…."  
“Is Idhren,” Finnel finished, “I do not expect an answer right now, or even within the next year, but know this, my King, giving you our Lothiriel was one of my greatest joys, and I wish to do so again."

"When the time is right, for you and I, I shall tell you." he said, "But there are many circumstances I must consider. Idhren has longed for a child for quite some time, and Dalla has only so many years of child-bearing, so should she wish...”

"I understand, my King," she smiled, leaning in to kiss him, "I saw you at the feast last night when she was speaking with Prince Bain's wife. You were thinking of it, of her, heavy with your child.” Thranduil let out a low growl.

 

"I think of you all like that and often," his voice rumbled in his chest, "But I learned my lesson with Gwend and Inariel. Never again will I have two ladies with child so close together."

"Could my King not satisfy them when the hunger came?” Finnel teased.  
“Your King was falling asleep upon his throne, and understood how sore and used his ladies must feel when the hunger takes him,” Thranduil chuckled, “You have my thanks, my beautiful Finnel, for your honesty and understanding. May I ask your honesty again?”

"Of course, my King."

"Do you believe me to favor our Lothiriel above my other children?"

"My King, it is only the blind who cannot see she is the light of your life," Finnel said softly, "But you have spoilt her, I fear we may see darkness in her once the new _gwinig_ arrives."  
“I had not considered that.”

"Consider it," Finnel said, leaning in and kissing his cheek, "And I am patient, I can wait to bear you another. A son, perhaps?"  
“Perhaps,” he agreed.  
“You have my heart, my King,” she said softly.

"And you will always have a place in mine" he replied.

 

*

 

Thranduil sat on the edge of his bed, looking out through the window. He could feel Finnel’s calf pressed against his lower back, soft and warm, and he reached out to place a hand on her thigh. She sighed in her sleep, and he could feel a sense of peace wash over her.

He turned his mind back to his task. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his children. Legolas was doing something with his hands and thinking about archery, fletching perhaps. Thangonnas was thoroughly entertained though, whether it was drink or bed companions, he could not tell, nor did he want to.

 

Feredir was standing guard outside the temporary nursery, his mind elsewhere from his task. Thranduil frowned. He often found Feredir distracted these days and in desperate need to talk to someone, but whenever Thranduil approached him, his third son remained silent and closed his mind off. Perhaps Gwend would have better luck.

 

Casting those thoughts from his mind, he continued in age order, seeking out Tuigalen. She was awake and somewhat restless. As she grew older, she was finding less and less need for sleep, but as yet, she had not found a way to occupy herself during these periods of insomnia. She was not yet disciplined enough to relax in the meditative state other elves did.

He made a mental note to speak with Vinga. Tuigalen was very close to her _naneth_ and might respond better to her teachings than his. Ceven and Mirima were both awake too. This was the very beginning of the same stage Tuigalen was nearing completion. The humans called it puberty, the elves called it _Echui_ , the awakening, of both mind and body.

 

His youngest son and second daughter would both awaken for an hour or so each night before going back to sleep as mortal children did. Areth and Lothiriel were both fast asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams of home, which made Thranduil smile.

Six of his children were growing up, but these two had some years, yet of depending on him to keep them safe, and he liked that. He wanted to feel needed as a father and not just as a King.

 

His mind turned to his ladies. All of them were resting, most in a deep sleep though Gwend was merely meditating. A brief glance at her thoughts told him that she, too, was concerned about Feredir. He would discuss their son with her in the morning.

 

He then sought out Dalla, hoping to see her thoughts and feelings. Much had happened between them that day, and he longed to hold her in his arms once more, but he knew she needed to recover. He was not small by any means, and she had bled far more than he had anticipated, although not enough to be overly concerned.

Then there had been the incident that afternoon. He wondered if perhaps he had overreacted. Maybe he should have asked Dalla if she wished to have a guard, or at least discussed it with her. He had never expected to see the fiery resistance to him she had shown, and publicly.

From Inariel, yes, but never from his _hortalë elen_.

 

When he found her mind, he found he did not recognize it. Dalla's usually crystal clear thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear and confusion.

He rose to his feet and moved closer to the window. From there, he could see directly into Dalla's room across the wing, and he was not pleased to see the armor and blond hair of Rinion the guard, looming over where Dalla's bed was. He let out a low growl. What was he doing?!

 

 

Turning on his heel, Thranduil snatched up his red robe and pulled it on, not bothering to dress in any more than the loose fitted pants he wore underneath and certainly not caring to find and put on his boots.

He slammed the door shut behind him, forgetting that Finnel lay asleep in his bed, as he marched down the corridor, his guards falling into step behind him without question. His heavy footsteps prompted the faces of his other ladies to appear as he turned into the corridor with Dalla’s room.

"My King?" Gwend questioned, but he did not stop as he clearly heard Dalla splutter and gag. He pushed her door openly forcefully, the lock still broken and felt fury rise deep within him. Rinion was stood on the far side of the bed, Dalla’s auburn tresses gathered in his hand as she heaved. Rinion looked up, startled at the King’s sudden appearance.

 

"What are you doing?!" Thranduil demanded. Rinion was speechless, his mouth opening and closing uselessly until Dalla's upper body heaved, and Thranduil heard something splatter into a ceramic pot. Hearing her sob, he raced around to the other side of the bed. She gripped the sheets, her face red, eyes bloodshot. The chamberpot normally stowed under the bed was half full of vomit.

"Get out of my way," Thranduil growled, shouldering the guard away and taking her hair up in his own hands. "Get out!" Rinion edged around the King and quickly left the room, narrowly avoiding colliding with Gwend and the other ladies as he made a hasty retreat.

"Gwend, find Bard, and awaken a healer at once," Thranduil said as Dalla heaved again, her sobs growing in intensity. Thranduil gently placed the backs of his fingers on her forehead. She felt hot, abnormally hot.

"Dalla," he said gently, "Dalla, can you hear me? _Hortalë elen_?" She made no response, her mind remained confused and fearful, and Thranduil felt his heart still for a moment. Fever, vomiting, unresponsive, he had seen sickness like this once before, in wartime. He offered up a silent prayer to the Valar.

 

_Please. Not her._


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> Mellon nin - My friend  
> Hortale elen - (Quenya) Shooting star lit. speeding star  
> Ada/Adar - Dad/Father  
> Neth - Sister  
> Lindlim - Sings clear (a pet name for Mirima)  
> Thele - Aunt (of my own creation)  
> Naneth - Mother  
> Ion nin - My son

Thranduil gently dabbed Dalla's forehead with a damp cloth. The healer had been and gone, most disgruntled at being summoned from his bed. He had examined Dalla's eyes, felt her forehead, and declared her in no danger before trundling back off to bed.

 

Thranduil disagreed but had sent his guards back to their posts and the other ladies back to their beds. He had remained with her, even still as the sun began to rise in the east.

 

She seemed to have settled, but there was no sign of the fever breaking. Touching her gently, Thranduil felt her fingers twitch. She was aware of him in some fashion it seemed, that was good. But still, he was angry, angry that Bard had allowed them to visit when clearly some sickness was sweeping through Dale.

 

 

The door opened, and the King of Dale himself stepped in.

"How is she?"

"Sleeping, I believe," Thranduil replied, "You had better explain yourself."

"Explain myself?"

 

"Why would you allow us to come when a plague infests your city?"

"A plague?!" Bard spluttered, "Oh Thranduil, you have spent too long in your forest and not enough time among mortals. This is no plague; it is a simple vomiting sickness. We get them at least once a year. It works it's way through the population before dying down. It started before Dalla left, she helped take care of me when it was my turn to lay abed shivering and shaking." Thranduil frowned, and Bard sighed.

 

"Two days, it should last," he said, "By this time tomorrow, the fever should have broken, she'll be awake and able to eat something and drink water. In two days, she will be back to normal, though maybe a little lethargic due to lack of food. This is nothing. She's conquered worse."

"Worse?"

 

"Do you remember the letter I sent you less than a year after the Battle?"

"Yes, you had an outbreak of Dragon Pox," Thranduil recalled, "That only comes from prolonged exposure to a dragon's horde. You did not send a small child in there, did you?!"

"Of course not, Dalla never went near Erebor," Bard snapped, "It was her brother."

"Brother?"

 

"Reed was his name," Bard said, "I sent him up to Erebor because he wasn't strong enough to help with building work. Dain was supposed to make sure he and the others I sent didn't spend too long in amongst it. He failed. Reed came home and fell sick within a day. Dalla followed shortly after."

 

A faint whimper came from Dalla, and Thranduil turned to her. Her face was twisted as if in distress, and he gently placed a hand on her brow. He could see her thoughts.

 

 

_Dalla lay on a small bed, coughing, struggling for breath as she curled on her side. A few feet away, lay a boy, in his mid-teens, almost a man. He was still, save for shallow breaths, his hands and face covered in bright purple and red marks. "Reed!" he heard Dalla cry out, hoarsely, "Reed!" The boy's breathing slowed and finally stopped.  
_

 

Thranduil instantly pulled away from her mind. He could feel her heartbreak at watching her brother succumb to the sickness and her childlike pleas for him not to leave her.

 

"It took Dain seven years to even apologize for that failure," Bard grumbled as he looked at Dalla, "We lost a lot of good people to that damned pox! But Dalla beat it; she's made of strong stuff."

 

"If she can beat Dragon Pox….perhaps I was a bit swift to judge," Thranduil said quietly, "Forgive me, _mellon nin_ , I just..."

"I know," Bard said, "I have work to do. Would you like me to send her maid in to relieve you?"

 

"No, no, I think I will stay with her," Thranduil said, sitting on the edge of the bed, "Though, if I could trouble you for some breakfast..."

"Consider it done," Bard said, "I'll send up some cool water as well. See if you can get her to drink something." He stepped back and headed out the door, leaving the Elven King alone with Dalla.

 

 

Thranduil placed his fingers against Dalla's palm, and her hand closed around them, squeezing tightly as her head moved, and she cried out. Sliding from the bed, he knelt close to her head.

 

"What is it that frightens you, _hortal_ _ë_ _elen_?” he whispered, “Show me.” Closing his eyes, he focussed on her mind. He heard screaming at first, cries of fear and pain, and then the clashing of steel weapons. He opened them.

 

_Another memory. Earlier than the first. Thranduil was back at the Battle of the Five Armies, and Dale was being overrun by Azog's Orcs._

 

_"Dalla! Stay close!" a woman's voice cried. He turned in time to see a small child, barely more than a toddler, being scooped up by a woman._

_"Elves, Ma!" the little girl said, and Thranduil smiled to recognize Dalla's speech. She always liked to really sink her teeth into the 'vee' sound._

 

_Fearing for the life of her and her child, the woman stumbled backward into a blocked-up doorway and watched as Orcs invaded the street. The Orcs saw them and advanced quickly on their weak and unarmed targets._

 

_Then he heard a mighty roar, and arrows rained down upon the Orcs. Mirkwood arrows. Seconds later, he saw himself leading the charge into the remaining enemies, slicing them down with deadly accuracy. He recalled this, but he heard something he did not. Dalla's frightened cries as his blades swung deadly close to her and her mother._

 

_Of course, at the time, he had been absolutely aware of the pair huddled in the doorway and would never have struck them. But, he realized now, Dalla had not, nor had her mother. To see him as a twirling whirlwind of rage must have been terrifying to the unsuspecting pair. They must have feared him at that moment. As quickly as he had come, he was gone again._

_"Who's that, Ma?" he heard Dalla ask._

_"That was the Elven King," was her mother's reply._

 

 

He pulled back again.  
"Oh, little one, I am sorry I frightened you," he whispered, "I did not know. I promise, if you come back to me, I will never frighten you again.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

 

Jumbled memories came forward. Memories of seeing The Great Elven King, often hiding behind her father or Bard's legs. He seemed to go on forever in her eyes.

 

In one memory, his gaze had fallen on her, and he had offered her a smile. He felt her fear of him. She feared the Elven King, who everyone said ate naughty children.

 

 

Then came the memory of her first day in his realm. He did not realize, at the time, how predatory he had looked to her. He could not help but enjoy the shiver that had run down her spine as she stood nude before him.

 

Then came the previous morning, when he had held her in his arms and made love to her for the first time. He felt every emotion she had, every sensation was still crystal clear in her mind. She moaned when he pulled back from her mind. Her brow was hot once more, the fever showing no signs of breaking. He wet the cloth again and dabbed at her brow.

 

"Where is he?" she mumbled, "Where is he?"

"Who do you want, _hortal_ _ë_ _elen_?” he asked, happy to find whoever she wanted, save for Rinion. The ellon’s close proximity and touch was something Thranduil could no longer tolerate.

 

"My King," she replied, "I want my King." Thranduil sighed. It was understandable that she would want Bard. He had been a good friend to her family and watched over her as she had grown up, like a favorite uncle.

 

"He is close, I will find him," he whispered, rising to his feet.

"My King...my Thranduil," she sighed. Thranduil froze, his heart seizing in his chest. He looked back at her. A faint smile graced her face, and for just a moment, she seemed serene and happy.

 

"My King," she sighed again, "He is so kind, and...and strong...and handsome," Thranduil smirked and seated himself beside her once more.

"Tell me more, Dalla," he whispered softly.

"He protects me," she mumbled, "He taught me to swim. He is patient….and gentle..." She let out a great, heaving sigh.  
"I love him," she whispered, "With all my heart."  


 

Thranduil looked down at her. He could feel the emotion radiating from her. She truly loved him, and was, for the most part, happy being with him. He could feel a little jealousy within her, but no more than the other ladies bore. He leaned over her and kissed her cheek.

 

"Your King loves you too, Dalla," he whispered, "Although I may not have you for long, I will always have a place for you in my heart. For all my days, I will love you." And it was true.

 

The little mortal had worked her way into his heart from the day she had arrived, occupying his thoughts with her bold and curious nature, her fondness for books, and her bright smile. She unknowingly up-heaved every plan he made for her.

 

He had intended to court her slowly, to know her mind and nature, before he ever took her to his bed. Perhaps he had already known that his heart called out to hers as it did with Gwend, and Inariel, and Mae.

 

He loved each of them deeply, as most of his kind did but once in their lifetime. He had always known himself to be different from other Elves, but it was not until he had allowed his heart to open to Anameleth, his beloved late Queen, that he had truly understood it.

 

He was capable of loving many, and he had, although Gwend remained the strongest and most profound of them all.

"I love you," he whispered in Dalla's ear, "Now, fight this. And come back to me."

 

 

He sat up straight just as the door opened, and Legolas appeared, carrying a plate. "Bard just asked that I..." he started.

"Yes, yes, just leave it on the dressing table," Thranduil said quietly, giving his son a reassuring smile.

"How is she?" Legolas asked, looking over at Dalla's form, hidden under blankets to stop her distressing shivers.

 

"I think we may be close to a turning point," Thranduil answered, "Just before you arrived, she was speaking. Although I think she did not know it was me to whom she spoke."

 

"Well, that is glad news indeed," Legolas smiled. He stepped closer, and Dalla's fingers tightened around Thranduil's once more. Another memory came from Laketown this time.

 

 

_He could feel the wind and the heat. Dragon. It was the night Smaug came. Her memory featured her brother, Reed, again. His bright red hair was unmistakable. He was carrying her in his arms, calling for their parents. They must have gotten separated in the chaos that surrounded them._

 

_Reed was struggling, but Dalla had nothing upon her feet, and the boards beneath Reed's were littered with splinters, nails, and glass. Ahead of them stood Legolas, who cast a brief glance at the crowd before moving on._

 

_"Wait! Please!" Reed called, his voice lost in the madness of others pleading for help. Moments later, Legolas turned back around the corner, marching towards them, pushing people out of his way.  
“Give her to me,” he ordered calmly, holding his hands out as he stood before them. Reed handed her over, and Thranduil perceived how safe Dalla had felt in the arms of his eldest son. Legolas turned sharply and strode back the way he had come._

 

_"Wait! My lord!" Reed cried, hurrying through the crowd to keep up with him. Soon they were free and clear of the spreading fire and walking quickly down the dock to the lakeside._

_"There are so many people who needed help," Reed said, "Why us?" Legolas paused, looking down at Dalla._

 

_"She reminds me of my youngest sister," he replied, "If ever she were in trouble, I hope someone would save her if they could.”_  
“Reed! Dalla!” voices called.  
“Your parents,” Legolas observed, passing Dalla back to Reed and bowing his head. Within seconds, he had vanished into the darkness.

 

Thranduil released her hand, anger roiling in his stomach.  
“ _Ada_?” Legolas asked.  
“You saved her,” Thranduil said as gently as he could, though a hard edge to his voice remained, "The night Smaug came, she reminded you of Lothiriel, and you went back to save her." Legolas went very still.

 

"It...it was the red hair," he said quietly, "Lothiriel was still very young and..."

"You need not explain yourself to me," Thranduil said, rising to his feet, "Why you did what you did all those years ago is your own business.”   
“Yes, _Ada_ ," Legolas said.

 

Thranduil looked his son up and down and silently cursed himself. Was he feeling jealousy because Dalla had associated Legolas with safety and himself with danger all those years ago? She was a small child at the time, she most likely did not even remember those events with great clarity. Thranduil let out a sigh.

 

"Perhaps I should show my face at breakfast after all," he said, the room suddenly feeling claustrophobic.   
"But I..." Legolas started, pointing towards the plate he had brought with him. "Remain here until I send Anira to relieve you," Thranduil interjected before leaving the room.

 

 

Once outside, he shook his head. What an absurd reaction! Although, it indeed confirmed how he felt about Dalla. The Elven King was not one for sharing those he loved. He knew he was being ridiculous, and the best way to feel himself once more was to put some distance between himself, Dalla, and Legolas.

 

Thranduil made his way through the hallways, Menelya appearing at his side briefly to receive her orders to find Anira before quickly leaving again. As he approached the final staircase, he heard Feredir's voice, slightly raised, which in of itself was concerning. His words were even more alarming.

 

"I am ashamed of you! I do not know where you heard such vile things, much less find cause to speak them aloud! _Neth_ , you are very dear to me, but I must tell _Adar_ what you have said."

 

Over Feredir's words, Thranduil could hear sobbing. He took the stairs two at a time to find Feredir stood in front of Mirima whose eyes were red and filled with tears.

 

"What is the meaning of this?" Thranduil demanded. His third son looked at him before glancing back at Mirima. "Go on then," he said, nudging the girl forwards, "Tell him what you told the others, and why Lothiriel and Areth are now weeping."

 

Thranduil stepped closer to Mirima, who began to shake. This was most odd. Mirima was one of the children he could trust to behave herself, to conduct herself with the dignity becoming of the daughter of the Elven King.

 

To find her being scolded by his most gentle adult son was highly irregular. Feredir must be overreacting, he decided. He knelt down before Mirima and gently took her hand. "Now, _lindlim_ ," he said, "What have you been saying?"

 

"They say _thele_ Dalla is sick," Mirima said, fighting to breathe through her sobbing. Behind her, Feredir rolled his eyes. " _Adar_ , she told Areth and Lothiriel that Dalla being sick means she will die soon," he snapped. Thranduil felt like the bottom dropped from his stomach, and immediately his brow furrowed.

 

"Mirima, who told you that?" he said, his tone harsher than he intended.

"Si...Si...Sirveleg," Mirima wailed, "He told me that _thele_ Dalla will die before I reach my majority." "Sirveleg," Thranduil muttered, dropping Mirima's hand and standing up.

 

" _Lindlim_ , pay no attention to what Sirveleg tells you. Your _thele_ is in no immediate danger. This type of sickness is common for her people. She is bedridden, but she will recover, do you understand?"  
"Yes, _Ada_ ," Mirimia said, bowing her head. Thranduil cast a brief glance at Feredir, who looked remarkably unimpressed with Mirima's admission.

 

"Now go, rejoin the others and tell them what I have told you," he said. Mirima nodded. "And send your _naneth_ out to me,” he added, “She and I have something to discuss.” Mirima nodded again and hurried away towards the dining hall.

 

Thranduil turned to Feredir. "Tell me, _ion nin_ , is it the aim of all your brothers and sisters to send me to the Halls of Mandos before my time?" he asked. Feredir could offer him no more than a small smile and a shrug. Thranduil shook his head. He loved his children dearly, but he could already see that today was a day he was going to rue having so many.  



	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> Thele - Aunt  
> Ma - Yes  
> Naneth - Mother  
> Meleth nin - My love  
> Mas te? - Where is it?  
> Ai Elbereth! - By Elbereth!  
> Nach Tongwain! - You are so tight!

Thranduil took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He had a brief moment of reprieve where the world was blank and quiet before it all came rushing back. Four angry elleths stood before him, all talking over one another, but the message was clear. They wanted to know one thing and one thing only: what did he intend to do with Idhren?

 

Her son had stepped out of line once more and caused yet more upset amongst his children. Lothiriel still wept, believing her _thele_ Dalla was awaiting death, both of her parents unable to convince her otherwise. She clung to her mother’s skirts, blinking tear-filled green eyes up at him.

 

Mirima and Areth were in similar, although less distressed states. Ceven stood beside his mother, his hand clasped in hers. His face like stone even as his eyes flitted from one person to the next. Thranduil felt a painful pressure start to build in his head.  


  
"Enough!" he snapped. He did not like raising his voice to them, but at that moment, it was the only way to be heard. Silence descended over the room, save for Lothiriel’s sniffling. Gwend, Finnel, Inariel, and Vinga all kept their eyes on him. Their lips may not have been moving, but their eyes spoke of their feelings loud and clear.   


 

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose, thankful that Bard could see the storm brewing and had given them the use of the study so they could discuss what had happened away from prying eyes and ears.

  
“I promise you, I shall deal with Sirveleg and Idhren when we return home,” he said, “This has gone beyond harmless antics and sibling mockery.” He could practically hear Inariel snort and saw Vinga and Finnel’s brows furrow at his words.

  
"He told our children that Dalla would sicken and die," Finnel growled, "Thranduil, that boy must go! Have you forgotten Sirveleg very nearly drowned Dalla? If you do not act decisively...I dread to think what may happen.”

  
“I have forgotten nothing, and I understand your concerns,” Thranduil said, looking down when he felt a tug at his hand. Lothiriel was at his side, her tears seemingly at an end. He bent down and scooped her up, her small arms wrapping around his neck.

  
“I do, and I will do my very best to address them,” he said as Lothiriel rested her head on his shoulder, “But I feel Sirveleg needs your understanding and guidance as much as the children you birthed do.”

 

Inariel sighed. “And once again, Sirveleg is placed above his own blood," she said, "Come, Mirima, I do not much feel like being in your father's presence today." Thranduil opened his mouth to speak once more, but it was too late.

 

Inariel had taken their daughter's hand and escorted her from the room. Vinga followed, taking Areth with her. Finnel looked at him and then to their daughter, who was on the verge of falling asleep. She sighed and left. Thranduil looked to Gwend, who looked away to their youngest son.  


  
“Ceven, go with _thele_ Finnel, keep her company,” she said softly.  
“ _Ma, Naneth_ ,” Ceven said. He bowed his head to Thranduil and left.

 

Thranduil sighed, and his shoulders slumped though he tried not to jostle Lothiriel too much. Gwend approached with a look on her face that told him she was going to tell him exactly where he had gone wrong.

  
“Are you going to tell me or just keep me in suspense?” he asked. Gwend smiled briefly as she approached him. “ _Meleth nin_ , I know you wish to do right by Sirveleg and Idhren,” she said, “But I feel you do this more for Alagos than them.” Thranduil looked down. “And that look tells me I am right,” Gwend continued, stepping close to him. She reached over and smoothed a stray lock of Lothiriel’s red hair back behind her ear.

 

“What can I do?” he asked quietly.   
“Consider sending Sirveleg home, to his father’s kin,” she said, “He is the cause of all disagreements within your Harem, and without having to worry about her son, perhaps Idhren may redeem herself.”

 

"I cannot send a boy away from his mother," Thranduil said.  
“But he cannot stay here, Thranduil, he is the cause of too much adversity within our home. Gwend replied, “Look at your daughter.”

Thranduil looked down at Lothiriel, now completely asleep in his arms.  


“She adores her _thele_ Dalla," Gwend said. "Sirveleg is many miles away, yet still he managed to hurt her. You do not see it, but I do. She is your favorite, and so he targets her. He craves a father's attention, but you are already stretched so thin, and his mother cares little about his behavior. Thangonnas and Legolas mercifully no longer need constant guidance, but Feredir is in need, I know you know that, but he will not come to you because he believes his siblings need you more.”

  
“Sirveleg needs someone who can give him far more than just attention. Idhren has spoiled him in an endeavor to make up for the loss of his own father. I have so little time for him and less patience for his behavior.” Thranduil sighed, “What am I to do when Mae comes due?”  
“Consider stopping?” Gwend suggested, "Else, you will father a brood larger than that of Fëanor and Finwë combined.”

 

Thranduil snorted, causing Lothiriel to stir and snuggle closer to him. “It shall take far more than a number for me to consider my family complete,” he said.

"I know," Gwend said, smiling as she turned from him.

  
“I fear you are right," Thranduil spoke, making her pause, "I owe a great debt to Alagos, and I felt that by bringing them into the fold, I could repay him.”   
"It is not just you who owes him much," she replied, turning back to him, "Alagos brought you back to me."  


  
“Gwend,” he said softly, leaning in to rest his brow against hers.   
"You marched to war, and I thought you lost to me," she spoke with a hitch in her voice, "But he brought you back, and I will always thank him for that." Thranduil pressed a kiss to her brow.   


 

Thranduil's march to war at the end of the Second Age had brought tremendous changes to his family and his people. It was still a time that hurt when remembered.

  
“I promise I will deal with Idhren and Sirveleg,” he whispered, “All I ask is patience from you and the rest of my ladies.”   
“I shall try, but you know Inariel when she is angry,” Gwend warned.  
"I shall endeavor to prepare myself," he replied. Gwend lifted the sleeping child from his arms.  
“Go, see Dalla, her fever might have broken,” she said.

 

She saw Thranduil hesitate and raised a brow. “What happened?” she asked.   
"She told me that...she loves me," he said, "She was delirious with fever, but I could feel it in her heart, she was sincere."   
“After only a month?”  
“So it would seem,” he said gently.  
“I suspected as much,” she replied, “After all these centuries, it is easy to tell when you have fallen in love.”   
“I said nothing of this myself,” he said, raising an eyebrow.   
“You did not need to,” she replied, turning and leaving the room.

 

*

 

Rinion slammed the cup down, earning him a derisive look from the innkeeper. He had passed most of the night in one tavern or another after being summarily dismissed by the Elven King.

 

It appeared that even the introduction of a new bed companion did little to ease Thranduil's notoriously foul temper, and Rinion found it more vicious than usual when Dalla was present.

 

Damn that greedy, selfish King to the Void. He had done no wrong. He had heard Dalla wretch and gone in to investigate. Finding her leaning over the edge of her bed, he had instinctively pulled her hair out of the way.

 

It was not his fault that the King had misinterpreted it, and the physical push was utterly unnecessary. Thranduil wanted him out? Fine, Rinion could find amusement someplace until the King threw his next adolescent tantrum.

 

Dawn had come and gone, and no one had come looking for him. Not that Rinion was surprised. They may call themselves his friends, but at the end of the day, Legolas, Thangonnas, and Feredir were all Thranduil's sons.   


 

Legolas was probably off being the perfect Prince, showering the Dragon Slayer with compliments on his reign, Thangonnas was no doubt attempting to woo some poor unsuspecting maiden and Feredir...well, Feredir’s issues were his own and Rinion knew to leave well enough alone when it came to him.

  
“Another,” he said, pushing his empty cup towards the innkeeper.   
“I think you’ve had enough, son,” the man said, removing Rinion’s cup but not replacing it.   
“Son? I am almost two thousand years old, a little old to be your son, I think!”  


“He didn’t mean it like that, pet,” came a warm voice that made Rinion turn around. For a moment, he thought he was looking at Dalla. Then he noticed small differences. This woman's chin was a little pointier, and her teeth slightly crooked on the bottom.  


  
“Oh? And how did he mean it?” Rinion asked.   
“It’s a term of endearment, he meant no harm,” the woman said, stepping closer.   
"Well, he is not endearing himself to me," Rinion said, looking her up and down. Aside from those tiny differences, she was Dalla's exact double, a thought that had him hardening in his pants.

  
“Would it be presumptuous to assume that I might?” she asked, her voice practically a purr, “Endear myself?”   
“Not at all,” Rinion grinned. She stepped in closer, and Rinion spread his knees that she might stand as close as possible.

  
“And what might your name be, good sir?” she asked.   
“Rinion,” he replied, “I’m a Captain of the King’s Guard.”   
“Oh, an important Elf to be sure!”   
“Indeed I am,” Rinion said, all thoughts of the King’s greediness and temper fleeing his mind, “And who might you be?”

 

"My name is Thora," she answered.   
"Well, Thora, I do believe you are endearing yourself to me already," Rinion said, reaching out and tucking a loose strand of Thora's red hair behind her ear.  


 

*

 

Thranduil looked around the courtyard. It was practically deserted. His younger children were playing some sort of game with the young stable-hands. Lothiriel was walking along, hand in hand, with the young son of Bain, Brand.

 

The two of them were delighting in the sight of the horses peering out of the stables. Bard was sat halfway down the steps, watching what little activity there was.

  
“It is quiet today,” Thranduil observed. Bard half-turned, glancing back at him over his shoulder.  
“I sent anyone unnecessary home,” he said, “Don't want the sickness spreading if I can help it. Come on, sit your royal behind down." He patted the stone step next to him. Thranduil hesitated for a moment before stepping down and seating himself beside the Dragon Slayer.  


  
“I don’t get many moments like this,” Bard mused, “Just chance to sit and watch Brand grow up.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a pipe and a pouch. “I doubt you get many either,” he continued as he set about getting his pipe ready.

 

"Not as many as I would like," Thranduil admitted, “But I am blessed with children that take a century to grow up.”   
"Very true," Bard said, "A century would be nice, but I don't think….ah damn..." His pipe slipped from his fingers and clattered down the steps.   


 

Ceven looked up from the new game he, Areth, and Mirima were being shown. He quickly bounded over, retrieving Bard's pipe and returning it. “Thank you, young Ceven,” Bard said gratefully.  
“You are welcome, Bard King,” Ceven replied before leaving.

  
“Are you well?” Thranduil found himself asking. Bard’s momentary hesitation made Thranduil instantly regret asking. "As well as one can be at sixty-three winters," he said, almost jovially. The silence stretched between the two Kings for a short while as they watched the children play.  


  
“Truth is,” Bard began, breaking the silence, “My hands are not what they used to be. Too many years steering a barge and holding a bow, now I cannot do either.” He held up one hand and attempted to open and close it, only to grimace when the pain became too much.

  
“My eyes are struggling now too,” Bard murmured, “I can barely tell your children from mine.” He gestured towards the playing young. “That is why all your letters have been in Sigrid’s hand recently,” Thranduil replied.

 

"I can't see in low light, and I cannot grip a pen. Sigrid’s had to step up. Bran too.”   
“Is there nothing that can be done?” Thranduil asked.   
"They give me something for the pain, but there isn't much else."  


 

Thranduil reached across and placed one hand over Bards. The old man winced for a moment before his eyes fluttered shut in relief. “Thank you,” he said quietly, feeling the aching his bones subside.

 

"I offered to keep you from such pain once," Thranduil said, his long fingers sweeping over Bard's rough skin. “Aye, you did,” Bard agreed, “But it would have cost me my Kingdom, and caused me to outlive my own children.”   
“Regrettably.”

  
“I do not regret my decision,” Bard said, flexing his fingers to their fullest, “All I ask is you make the same offer to Dalla, should she wish it.”

“I believe she does,” Thranduil said quietly, "I cannot do anything about your eyes, but for today, your hands should be easier to move."

 

Bard closed his hand into a fist.

“It is indeed,” he agreed, picking up his pipe, “Care to test your archery skill against me?” Thranduil laughed. “I should have known you would not offer unless I eased your pain!”

 

*

 

Thora grunted as Rinion all but slammed her into the alley wall. The Elf was so drunk, he could not even speak in Westron anymore, but no matter. She didn’t want him for his conversation. His kiss was sloppy, but she did not doubt that sober, he would have proven to be quite talented.   


 

His hips pressed against hers, and she could feel his hard length. This was too easy! Even now, his hands scrambled to hike up her skirts whilst hers attacked the laces of his pants. She grinned when he was freed. The rumors about the Elves were true, it seemed.   


 

Rinion hoisted her up against the wall, holding her there with his body. His hands scrambled to free her breasts from the confines of her bodice. His mouth dropped to suckle at one as his hips thrust clumsily. “ _Mas te? Mas te?!_ ” he muttered as he lowered her a little.

  
“Here,” she said, reaching under her skirts and guiding him into her.  
“ _Ai Elbereth!_ ” he cursed as he sank deep into her, “ _Nach tongwain!_ " His fingers gripped her thighs as his lips clamped onto her neck, and his hips began to move. He hit nice and deep inside her, making Thora tip her head back and sigh.   


 

He kept mumbling in Sindarin as his pace increased, and Thora had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. People walked past the end of the alleyway, and if any cared to turn their heads, they would see an Elf and a human, rutting against the wall.

 

Rinion's hands slipped to her behind and squeezed, muttering more and more. She leaned in. “Come for me, Rinion,” she whispered. He slammed into her, his pelvis shuddering. “Unggg, Dalla,” he breathed.  
“Dalla?!”

 

*

Dalla's eyes sprang open. She felt tired and weak but more aware. What had happened? She remembered waking up and feeling sick, but everything since then was nothing more than a blur...except for…

 

“ _My King...my Thranduil...”_

 

“ _I love him...with all my heart.”_

 

Turning her head slightly, she saw a tall figure seated by the bed. Her tired eyes only had to take in the broad shoulders and long blond hair to know it was Thranduil.  
“My King...” she breathed.  
“My love,” he replied, “Welcome back.”


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish in this chapter:  
> Hortale Elen - Shooting Star (Quenya, lit. Speeding Star)  
> Thele - Aunt  
> Mellon - Friend  
> Ada - Father  
> Hen nin - My Child  
> Mas? - Where?  
> Mi i canas - In the city  
> Sogannen sui naug - Drunk like a Dwarf  
> Im meatho den - I will deal with him  
> Gwib - Penis  
> Vanya inya - Beautiful lady (Quenya)  
> Indonya - My heart (Quenya)  
> Melmenya - My love (Quenya)  
> Avatyaro imni - Forgive me (Quenya)  
> Ni samo lemba tye mi mela - I have left you behind in my love (Quenya)  
> Ananta, silo? - And yet, this night? (Quenya)  
> Silo, rehtatye - This night, thou art saved (Quenya)  
> Liltorna - Harder (Quenya, lit. more hard)  
> Meleth nin - My love

Dalla felt unsteady on her feet, but the feel of Thranduil's arm sliding around her waist reassured her.  
“You do not need to do this, _hortalë elen_ ,” he whispered.  
“You said the children were upset, I want to reassure them that I am well,” she said, clutching his other hand as they descended the stairs towards the dining room.  
“Then do it tomorrow, when you have rested,” he suggested, “The children will survive not knowing another night.”  
"No, my mother was sick when I was a child, I was out of my mind with worry,” Dalla insisted, “I could not sleep. I can only imagine how the little ones are feeling right now.”  
“Dalla,” he breathed as they reached the bottom of the stairs, “You are too kind for your own good. You would endanger your health just to reassure my...”  
“I am their _Thele_ ," Dalla cut him off, "And I have come to find them each very dear and precious in their own way. It is a privilege to be a part of your family, my King." For a moment, Thranduil did naught but look at her before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.  
“My lady, your heart will be your undoing and mine,” he murmured, “Though I wish you would have allowed me to bring the children to your room if you wished to see them.”  
“And disturb their routine? Never,” Dalla dismissed the notion, “I would not want to upset them further by having them summoned from their meals or their beds to see their sick _Thele_.”  
“True, but there I could have tended to you, seen that you ate and drank in peace,” he said softly, “But here, you will no doubt have the horde descend upon you.”  
“A burden I am most willing to bear,” Dalla chuckled weakly.

 

Two guards stood by the doors of the dining room, one of Dale, the other of Greenwood. They seemed to be sharing a quiet conversation until they saw Thranduil approaching with Dalla. Immediately they stood to attention and bowed their heads before opening the doors. There was no great feast that night, merely a simple meal shared between the Royal Family of Dale and the visiting Royals of the Greenwood. Bard sat at the head of the table, Sigrid sat to his left and Bain to his right. Beside, Bain sat his wife Katla and their son, Brand. Next to Sigrid was Tilda. Thranduil frowned upon seeing Thangonnas sat beside the younger daughter of Bard. Still, a simple nod from Legolas reassured him that the Prince was keeping a close eye and ear on his younger brother. Feredir sat on Legolas' other side, murmuring with Inariel. He seemed uninterested in his meal, it sat untouched before him. Still, it was reassuring to see Inariel so deep in conversation with him. There was a deep bond between Feredir and his Thele Inariel. This bond seemed at times, even closer than the one he held with his brothers. If Feredir could not reach out to his parents or siblings about what was bothering him, at least he had Inariel. Seated beside Inariel was Mirima and Areth with Vinga. Lothiriel sat beside Brand with Finnel, then Tuigalen, and finally Gwend with Ceven.  
  


 

Sigrid leaned in and whispered to her father.  
“Dalla, it is good to see you on your feet,” Bard said, smiling gently, “I did not think to see you until tomorrow.”  
“When I heard of the distress my sickness had caused, I wanted to reassure the little ones that I was well," Dalla said as Thranduil guided her to sit beside Gwend. Once assured, she was comfortably seated, the King took his own seat at the opposite end of the table from Bard.  
“Forgive our simple table, _Mellon_ ," Bard said to Thranduil, "But I had to send the cooks home, we eat tonight what was prepared by mine and my daughter's own hands."  
"I thank you once more for your hospitality, my friend," Thranduil nodded to him. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Gwend take Dalla's hand and squeeze it gently.  
“ _Thele_ Dalla!” Mirima scrambled from her seat and ran to Dalla’s side, “Are you well?” Areth too rushed over.  
"We missed you _, Thele_!” Areth said, “We thought you lost.”  
“Yes, your _ada_ has told me there were some malicious rumors of my passing,” Dalla smiled as brightly as she could, “But fear not, no sickness will take me just yet.” Ceven leaned over Gwend to speak to Dalla.  
“ _Hên nin_ , let your _Thele_ breathe," Thranduil said firmly, "She is still weak and needs her rest, but she wished to break bread with you, so do not overwhelm her."  
“Yes, _Ada_ ,” the three chorused and returned to their seats.

 

Gwend and Tuigalen quickly prepared a plate each for Dalla and Thranduil before retaking their seats, and the low hum of conversation washed over the table. Tuigalen was talking with Gwend about the plants she had found growing in the garden and drew Dalla into the conversation about the different medicinal herbs that were found there. Whilst Dalla did not have much knowledge of what was grown there, she did point Tuigalen to speak more with Sigrid as it was her pet project much as Tuigalen had her own. Vinga herself leaned over and whispered something quietly into Thranduil's ear, which drew a smirk from the King and a reply in a low voice. Dalla did not know which tongue he spoke in, but it was not Sindarin. Dalla found herself not able to eat much, but she ate some bread soaked in the broth Sigrid had prepared especially for her, and she sipped at some water. Her stomach still felt a little unsettled, but all the better for having some food in it. It was not long before she felt exhausted and ready to return to her bed. Before she could give voice to her desire, the Elven guard from outside slipped in and murmured something to Thranduil. The King’s expression turned from happy and joyful to cold and stone-like in an instant. Dalla heard three chairs being pushed back as his eldest sons stood.  
“ _Mas_?” the King asked of the guard.  
“ _Mi i canas_ ,” the guard replied, “ _Sogannen_ _sui naug.”  
“Im meatho den_,” Thranduil replied, swiftly rising to his feet, “Forgive me, _Mellon_ , but there are matters to which I must attend.” Bard nodded in response and watched as Thranduil strode from the room, flanked by his three elder sons and the guard.

 

*

 

Thranduil could barely contain his disgust as he looked down on the unconscious form of Rinion.  
"Wake him," he ordered, and a bucket of cold water was promptly poured over the guard's head. Rinion woke, spluttering and trying in vain to brush his hair from his eyes.  
“Well, Rinion Tegaladion, you have had quite the day," Thranduil spoke firmly. He watched Rinion tense up at the sound of his King's voice.  
“Where shall we begin?” he continued as he turned to pace back and forth in front of the guard, "First, I find you touching my Lady Dalla."  
  


Rinion had the decency to keep his gaze averted at the mention of Dalla’s name.  
“Then you pass the night drinking yourself into a stupor,” Thranduil continued, “You think because we are no longer in our own lands that I am not aware of your actions...or your words.

Thangonnas?"  
"The innkeeper reported an elf in guard uniform ranting about the greedy, selfish King. He accused his King of throwing adolescent tantrums and keeping the fairest ladies all to himself. He was heard damming his liege to the void with Morgoth." Thangonnas recounted as he leaned against a nearby wall, keeping his eyes on the disheveled and sopping elf.  
"So, you tarnish our image, you verbally denounce me in public," Thranduil said, "The list of transgressions grows. Feredir, Rinion is your friend, would you care to tell him why he was hauled in by the City Guards?”  
"Public indecency, I believe they called it," Feredir said quietly, refusing to even look at the ellon. "You were seen rutting with a human woman in an alleyway and then found, passed out on the ground with your _gwib_ hanging out.” Rinion continued to stare at the ground.  
"I cannot allow this behavior to go unpunished; bring him to his feet," Thranduil ordered with a wave of his hand. Feredir and another guard hauled him to his feet.  
“Leave us.”

 

Legolas, Thangonnas, and Feredir all turned and left with the guards who had brought Rinion in. Rinion swayed a little but kept his eyes turned downward.  
“Look at me,” Thranduil commanded. Rinion did not raise his gaze though whether it was obstinance or fear, Thranduil could not tell.  
"Look at me!" his control began to slip. Finally, Rinion's eyes lifted and met his.  
"You think me so ignorant that I am blind to you?" Thranduil asked one dark brow-raising, "Indeed I am not. I know that you covet Lady Dalla, your little endeavor into the undergrowth that morning was evidence enough." Rinion looked away, and Thranduil felt his patience being sorely tested. He stepped forward, reached out, and seizing Rinion's chin, forced the younger ellon to look up at him.  
"You imagine I do not know how you think of her? You desire her. You hunger so desperately that you must pleasure yourself at the thoughts of her and me together," he growled. "Tell me, how did it feel to stand outside the door whilst I took her maidenhood? To hear her surrender her body to me so freely? When you think of her now, will you also think of me? Think of your King, taking his pleasure with so many willing partners." He watched as the pupils of Rinion’s eyes blew wide, obscuring the iris almost entirely. He was stood so close, he could feel the guard’s chest rising and falling rapidly. Thranduil moved his leg so his thigh pressed against Rinion’s, preventing escape, and could feel him, ramrod stiff beneath his clothes. Tilting his head, Thranduil whispered in Rinion’s ear, “She is not for you, not her body nor her heart, she has given them both to me, and I shall gladly have them.”

 

He pulled back, smirking as he took note of the flush of Rinion’s cheeks, his breathing elevated. Leaning in, he dragged his lips slowly across the now shaking ellon’s mouth. A low moan came from Rinion, his hands coming up to hold the King’s wrist as he leaned in. For a brief moment, Thranduil allowed the young guard to taste him, flicking his own tongue between Rinion’s lips he sampled what was shamelessly offered. Unwilling to let it go further, though, he pushed Rinion back against the nearby wall.  
“Ever you desire that which is beyond your reach,” he murmured, brushing his thigh against the impossibly hard appendage in Rinion’s pants. "Dalla is not for you, ever shall it be so. " He released the ellon and stepped away.  
“Thangonnas,” he called. Moments later, Thangonnas appeared.  
“See to it that Rinion is stripped of his uniform and the weapons given to him by the Crown,” Thranduil said, dusting his hands off, "His enlistment is at an end. He is free to make his own way back to the Woodland Realm." Thangonnas nodded and moved to grasp Rinion's upper arm. Rinion pulled away and marched off, a look of fury and shame on his face. It was impossible for him to hide the evidence of his arousal whilst Thranduil's robes did an excellent job of disguising his own.  
“What did you do?” Thangonnas asked.  
“Nothing, save warning him to keep his hands to himself,” Thranduil replied. He had never openly admitted to his sons his attraction to males, and preferred to keep it that way.  
"If you would see to it that my orders are carried out, I will return Dalla to her room," he continued, "She is no doubt exhausted."  
“Bard is already escorting her,” Thangonnas said, “No doubt to ensure you keep your hands to yourself.”  
“Be gone with you, you insolent scoundrel,” Thranduil chuckled, “And see your work done. I shall rejoin your mother and _Theles_.”  
“Yes, _Ada_ ," smiling, Thangonnas bowed his head and left, hurrying to catch up with Rinion.

 

*

 

Dalla was pleased when Bard offered to escort her back to her room. As much as she loved Thranduil, his legs were far longer than hers, and she often found it difficult to match his pace, especially now when she felt so weak. Bain was young and too full of energy, but the aging King proved a more suitable escort.  
“I had been hoping to get you alone since you arrived,” Bard said as they slowly made their way.  
“Oh?”  
“Yes, an offer has been made to purchase your parents’ home," he said gently. "It is not substantial, given the need for repairs after the storms of last winter, but it should cover the remaining debts your father was burdened with. You can make a clean break."  
“I doubt my uncle and cousin will allow a ‘clean’ break,” Dalla mused.  
"Be that as it may, if you wish for the offer to be accepted, you will need to go and remove the last of your belongings," Bard said. "I am sure Thranduil will not begrudge you bringing childhood trinkets back with you."  
“No, I don’t think he will,” she smiled, “Thank you, my King, for taking care of all of this.”  
“Your father was a good man, too kind for his own good,” Bard said, “And I promised I would make sure you were taken care of. Though I doubt he envisioned a future for you as part of the Elven King’s harem.”  
“Did my father even know of the harem’s existence?”  
"I don't think your father was the kind of man to put two and two together with Thranduil's female companions," Bard laughed. "I have worried about you alone in that forest.”  
“But I am not alone,” Dalla said, “I have Gwend, and Inariel, and Mae, and the others. We are all sisters and friends.”  
“A letter telling me that would have been nice,” Bard muttered.  
“Forgive me,” Dalla said softly, “It was all so overwhelming...I did not think to tell you that I was safe and happy.”  
“He makes you happy?”

 

Dalla bit her lip and flushed faintly.  
“Yes, he does,” she replied, “I know it is soon, but I...I love him.”

"I understand that." Bard smiled, earning a curious look from Dalla.

"Ah, here we are!" They came to a stop outside Dalla’s door, two of the Harem guards stood outside it.  
“Where is Rinion?” Dalla asked.  
“It is not our place to say, my lady,” one of the elleths spoke, “The King will speak with you in the morning.”  
“Oh, I do hope he’s well,” Dalla said.  
“I shall enquire with Thranduil,” Bard said, “Now, go, rest. I shall see you, I hope, at breakfast.”  
“Thank you again for escorting me, my King,” Dalla said, bowing her head and curtseying. She wobbled slightly.  
"Enough of that," Bard said, guiding her to stand, "Now, to bed with you, lest your maid's wrath comes down upon us." Dalla looked back over her shoulder and saw Anira waiting in the now-open doorway. She turned back to Bard.  
“Then I bid you good night, my King,” she said.  
“Good night, Dalla,” Bard said, leaning in and kissing her brow gently.

 

*

 

Thranduil barely contained the smirk that spread across his face as the raven-haired beauty was revealed by the opening door.  
“Vinga,” he said, taking in her appearance. The silver lace nightgown clung to her body perfectly, showing off every curve, and the cerulean silk wrap did little to preserve her modesty.  
“It has been some time since the Elven King darkened my door,” she said, looking him up and down, “And I suppose you have come looking for something...carnal in nature." The way her lips formed the words threatened to unravel the King, and he could not help the low growl that tumbled from his mouth.  
“ _Vanya inya, indonya, melmënya_ ,” he said, “ _Avatyaro imni. Ni samo lemba tye mi méla_.” (Beautiful lady, my heart, my love. Forgive me. I have left you behind in my love.)

“Pretty words will not save you forever, my King,” she grinned, reaching out one elegant hand and running it down his chest.  
“ _Ananta, siló?_ ” he asked. (And yet, this night?)  
“ _Siló, rehtatyë_ ,” she replied. (This night, thou art saved)

Thranduil wasted no time stepping into her waiting arms and wrapping her in his.

 

The feel of a warm, willing body soothed the ache that had burdened him since his encounter with Rinion, though he now cast the ellon from his thoughts. This was Vinga, his Vinga, the one who had come seeking knowledge and found love with him. Her lips still tasted as sweet as they had the first night he had kissed her. He walked her backward into the room and shut the door behind them.  
“And what has my King so riled up?” Vinga asked as he began to kiss down her neck.  
“Frightful business with a guard,” he murmured, “I no longer wish to think of him.”  
“I can think of no better way to serve you, my King,” she replied as he pushed the wrap from her shoulders. Turning her to face away from him, he brushed his lips down the back of her neck. She let out hums of pleasure as his long fingers began to pull her nightgown down, dancing over her skin as they went.  
“My Vinga,” he whispered in her ear, nipping at the delicate lobe. Her dress settled around her feet, and she turned to face him.  
"You are quite overdressed," she said, "Allow me to remedy that." Her elegant hands quickly removed his robes, his tunic, and unlaced his pants, freeing his straining erection from its confines.  
"A guard did this, my King?" she asked a coy smile on her face, "Pity you did not bring him with you. "Thranduil growled and gave her another searing kiss as her hand began to stroke him, drawing down the bead of liquid that appeared at his tip. He pulled back long enough to remove his boots and completely free himself of his pants.  
“Vinga, my love, turn around,” he whispered. Vinga let out a small laugh but turned anyway. Thranduil slid one arm across her upper chest and rested the other hand on her hip, walking her towards the bed.  
“Remember, if you need me to stop, say….”  
“ _Liltorna_ ," she smiled, "I know." She eagerly climbed onto the bed, remaining on all fours and giving her bottom an inviting little wiggle. No invitation was needed to encourage Thranduil, however. He was soon knelt behind her, guiding his hardened cock into her welcoming warmth.  
“Ah! Vinga!” he groaned as he rocked his hips into her, eliciting a squeal of delight.  
"Harder," she purred. A smirk spread across the King's face, he could do that. He held her hips firmly and pulled back slightly. He did not hold back as he slammed himself again inside her. His ladies were all different in their own ways, and this was Vinga’s. She liked him to talk to her in Quenya and then feel him as deep as he could push himself. She was always so warm, wet, and welcoming. It was true, he hadn't come to her as often as he used to, but he could no longer remember why. The way she clenched around him with each thrust was like heaven, catapulting him higher and higher as he gathered speed. The bed moved and squeaked in rhythm with them, and he cared not that their passionate cries filled the air. Vinga understood his needs as did the others, the need to mate, to rut, to love that filled him daily, always threatening to consume him.  
  


 

Vinga whimpered beneath him and snaked one hand beneath her to take herself over the edge.  
“Yes,” he grunted, “Yes, take us there, _meleth nin_.” He knew it would not take much, he was already so close when he had first sunk into her. Vinga let out short cries as her clever fingers found the sensitive nub between her legs. She began to tighten around him until finally, her body convulsed around him, and he quickly gathered her up in his arms, pulling her up against his chest. A few lazy thrusts into her had him reaching his own climax, the throb of his cock a blessed relief as he filled her with his seed.  
“Vinga,” he whispered into her hair, one hand fondling her breast. She laughed and rolled her head back against his shoulder, her chest still heaving.  
"I pity...my King...the poor guard who displeases you when we ladies are not around," she said, a wicked smile spreading across her face. He leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep.  
“Pity, my love, is not what he would be feeling,” he said.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

The sun rose over Dale, the light gently filtering through the window and illuminating Dalla's room. Her eyes opened, and she sighed in contentment. She felt stronger already than she had the night before. Her stomach let out a low growl, and she rose to sit in her bed. Looking around, she was surprised to not see Anira lurking close by. That was most out of character.  
“Anira?” she called, wondering if the maid was engaged in some task already. There was no answer.

 

Dalla shrugged and rose from the bed. She was already much steadier on her feet than the day before. She cringed inwardly. She did not get sick often, and how embarrassing that she should fall ill so quickly after returning home! And then there was all the distress it had caused for Thranduil’s children. She smiled as she thought of the delight on their faces when they had seen her the night before. They were very dear to her, welcoming her into their family with such ease and comfort.

 

Her heart skipped a beat as the thought of giving them all another brother or sister flitted across her mind. She shook her head. No. Far too soon to even be considering it. Truthfully, she was still waiting to experience the King fully. She wanted to have him solely as her lover for a while before she consented to bear him a child if he even wanted more children. Mae was due to birth his ninth child in less than two moons. Surely that was enough even for him!   
  


 

Turning her mind from the King, she headed to the closet. Ever since her arrival in the Woodland Realm, Anira had carefully selected each of her outfits. Whilst the elleth certainly had a good eye and a keen sense of how to dress her lady, Dalla missed making her own choices. Opening the door, she was surprised by the selection. Someone, she suspected the King, had been adding to her wardrobe, and it felt wrong.   
  


 

She had been reluctant to accept Bard's gifts of clothes, furs, and jewels, unused to such extravagance. Her father had been a humble, modest man who lived within his means. Those means had been sorely tested just as Dalla had been entering adolescence. His brother, her uncle, Orrin, had run up huge debts with the Dwarves, Elves, and Men. He had come to her father begging for help despite having not spoken since before Dalla was born.

 

Jon, in his kindness, had agreed to take on the debts, negotiating payment with first the Dwarves, then the Elves, and finally the Men. Most had been repaid by the time he had passed, but not all. Meanwhile, Orrin had grown lazy and fat whilst Jon accounted for every small coin and gone without so Dalla and her mother would not have to.

 

So Dalla had grown up a lord’s daughter but with very few lavish dresses, most of them being cheap and practical. There was no horse to go out riding on, her lessons in Sindarin had come from Sigrid herself. The only jewelry Dalla possessed had been what was left to her by her mother; the value was more sentimental than monetary.

 

Of course, Bard had had no idea that Jon had taken on this extra responsibility and had expressed his dismay at this well-guarded secret upon discovering it. He had made it his work to settle the last of the debts, ensuring Jon’s estate was purchased at a fair value and divvying up the funds accordingly. Dalla received nothing save for a small allowance that Jon had set aside for her. It had not lasted long.

 

Dalla had refused to see her father’s employees out in the cold and had kept them on, even though she had little need for them. After all, no one was calling to see her, so why would she need a butler? There was only her left, so why need a cook? But as the funds ran out, Dalla had been forced to let them go one by one. It was heart-breaking, like turning family out.

Her real blood, her uncle Orrin and his horrid daughter, Thora, had done little to support her. They had arrived the day after her parent’s funeral and demanded a share in the estate. They had been horrified to learn Jon had died virtually penniless and still owing a good amount of Orrin’s debts. Accusations had flown of Dalla hiding it, of lying about her fortune, and Bard had been forced to step in. The home had been closed up, and Dalla moved into the palace. Orrin and Thora were to be turned away at the door. Dalla sighed; it all felt like a lifetime ago when it was, in fact, only a few short months.

 

She selected a teal-colored silk gown she had never seen before, one of Thranduil's selections, she guessed. Delicate flowers were printed onto the fabric in a slightly darker shade. The bodice was simple, lacing up in the back, and the skirts flowing. The true spectacle of it was the sleeves, which draped down almost to the ground. A series of small loops and buttons on the undersides of the sleeves would allow them to be rolled up for more practical usage. She was just laying it out on the bed, pondering how she might dress herself when the door opened, and an almost-breathless Anira entered.  
  


  
“Forgive me, my lady,” she panted, “I...I was helping my brother down in the stables and lost all sense of time.”  
“Do not fret, Anira,” Dalla said, smiling, “I have not been awake long, and it was a pleasant surprise to see just how many gowns I now possess. The King has been keeping his seamstresses busy.”  
"He and Lady Gwend," Anira said. "When she saw the gowns you had brought with you, she immediately instructed for some of the King's favorite designs in colors to suit you."

 

"She certainly thinks of everything," Dalla mused. She tried desperately not to think of the night of passion she had shared with the elleth and the King before he had taken her maidenhood. She felt the heat rise on her face and a throb deep inside her.

  
"Indeed she does," Anira said, seeming not to notice, "That is why she is Chief Courtesan, she anticipates the King's and the ladies' needs before they do."  
“And her reward for doing so?” Dalla asked curiously.  
“She gets the King,” Anira shrugged in response, “After King Oropher so cruelly tried to part them, I suppose it was all she wanted. Now, shall we get you bathed and dressed, my lady?”

 

*

 

“Dismissed?!” Dalla exclaimed as Thangonnas shrugged, “What for?”  
“ _Adar_ had numerous reasons," Thangonnas said calmly, "He felt that some of Rinion's behavior, especially towards you, was inappropriate."  
“Inappropriate? Rinion has been nothing but kind towards me,” Dalla said, lowering her voice when she realized several people were looking over. "He stood a little too close to me at times for my comfort, but I did not mean what I said. I was...it was a confusing day."  
  


  
"Regardless, his behavior yesterday brought dishonor on him and my father as a result," Thangonnas said. "Even I have never been caught drunk with my _gwib_ on show.”  
“ _Gwib_?” Dalla queried, unfamiliar with the term. Thangonnas opened his mouth.  
“Do not dare, Thangonnas,” Gwend spoke before her son could, “Lady Dalla has no need to know that word as it is not for polite conversation.” Thangonnas held his hands up in mock surrender as Gwend passed.

  
“A pity,” Dalla said, “About Rinion. I had hoped for his help.”  
“What is it you need, _Thele_?” Thangonnas asked.  
“My former home has been sold. I am required to empty it, remove my possessions, decide what is to be discarded or sold," she explained. "I had hoped for Rinion's help, much of the furniture is quite heavy.”

  
"I would be more than happy to help you, Thele," Thangonnas said.  
“Are you not accompanying your father?" Dalla asked, gesturing towards where the King was mounting Araglar the Elk. Today's agenda was taking him to Erebor without her.  
  


  
"No, the Dwarves took the presence of the King's bastards as an insult last time," Thangonnas said somewhat bitterly, drawing her attention back to him.  
“I heard you drank them dry,” Dalla quipped.  
"That too," Thangonnas admitted, "Legolas has no desire to go either, so you shall have three of us, including Feredir if you wish."  
“I would appreciate that,” Dalla said, “Do you know what the others are doing today?”  
"I believe Vinga is taking the little ones to visit the school with Finnel," Thangonnas said. "Inariel is meeting with a company of archers, and my mother is accompanying my father."  
  


“Alas, no female companionship, Anira, it seems has extra duties today," Dalla mused.  
“Aye, she would be helping her brother, Beinion,” Thangonnas said, “Araglar got into the green apples last night.”  
“Is that what that smell is?” Dalla asked, recalling what Rinion had said about the Elk and green apples, "I thought you had fallen in another latrine pit."  
“I did not fall, I was pushed,” Thangonnas frowned as Dalla laughed, “Do you want my help or no?”  
“Yes, yes, I do!” she said, wiping away the tears of laughter falling from her eyes, “Oh, do not be so serious, Thangonnas, it does not become you.”

 

"True," the General said with a dashing smile. Dalla could see why maidens fell for him, his likeness so very much like his father, but when Dalla looked at him, she felt nothing like she did when she looked upon the King. What she felt for Thangonnas was purely friendship, and that made her just as happy.

 

*

 

It felt like a lifetime since she had walked down this street, Dalla thought as she walked over the cobblestones. So long, and yet so recently. At the end of the street stood her former home; most of its roof had caved in due to lack of maintenance during her father’s life and some rather heavy winter storms a few months before.  
“You lived here, _Thele_?” Feredir asked as they approached.  
“Yes, this was my home for twenty years," Dalla said, "It...it looked better then, I assure you. And we were happy here, my mother, father, and I. Even Reed, the short time he was with us."  
“Your brother would have been a fine man,” Legolas asked from her other side, “It is a shame he did not live to become one.”

  
"Yes, well, the less said on that, the better," Dalla said hastily. She noted the stares the three sons of Thranduil drew as they walked. Legolas did not even wear his princely raiment, instead choosing the garb of his woodland guard brethren, but still. There was no denying that each of them had come from their father's seed. The King's jawline, brow, and hair were shared equally between the three of them and their younger brother, Ceven.   
  


 

They approached the door, and Legolas produced the key Bard had given him. He unlocked the door and, several shoulder thumps later, opened the door. It felt bitterly cold inside, barren, and devoid of all life.  
“Where shall we begin?” Feredir asked.  
“My father’s study,” she said, “There are some important papers in there that must be given to the new owners if you would help me Feredir. Thangonnas, Legolas, if you would be so kind as to start bringing the furniture down from upstairs. Anything beyond repair is to be collected later, everything else, anyone may take.”  
“Of course, _thele_ ,” Legolas said with a bow of his head before leading his brother up the stairs. Dalla offered Feredir a smile and lead him to her father’s study.

 

Hours passed, and the only noise was the sound of heavy furniture being moved around. Most of the furniture in her parent's bedroom was fit for naught but firewood, the ceiling had collapsed along with the roof. Legolas had inspected the remaining timbers and informed her that tiny insects had been living in the beams, slowly eating them. There would have been no way of knowing until the roof had collapsed.

 

Thangonnas had taken great enjoyment in trying to throw various pieces of wood down the stairs and out the front door in one go. His aim was surprisingly accurate, and Legolas kept him from getting too carried away.   
  


 

Feredir was a very quick reader, seemingly able to identify documents importance within seconds of picking it up. He swiftly organized them into piles relating to property, taxes, investments, and debts. Dalla was impressed at his quick work. A high-pitched whooping noise from upstairs drew their attention as the sun began to drop low in the afternoon.  
“Oh, what has he found?” Feredir muttered.  
“I dread to think,” Dalla replied.  
“Thangonnas, no! Put that back, it is clearly _thele_ Dalla’s!” Legolas’ voice carried down the stairs.

 

Moments later, Thangonnas entered, bearing a grin on his face and a small book in one hand.  
“Brother, you must hear this,” he said, “ _O the Elven King so fair..._ ” Dalla gasped and lunged forward.  
“No, give that to me!” she squealed. She had not seen that book in years. Legolas and Thangonnas must have moved on to her old room and pulled the bed away from the wall. A book of adolescent poetry had been hidden there for quite some time.

 

She had often seen the Elven King from afar during his visits, and like many young women of Dale, had carried a flame for him at one time or another. She had thought it love then, but she knew now that it was infatuation and nothing more. Still, her teenage ramblings on the Elven King’s fair face were embarrassing enough to her without them being read aloud by one of his sons.

  
“Oh, this one is even better,” Thangonnas declared, easily avoiding Dalla’s grasping fingertips, “ _Golden hair and mighty steed…_.oh, reads like Tuigalen’s diary.”  
“You read our sister’s diary?!” Feredir snapped, looking up from the piles of paperwork. Dalla took advantage of Thangonnas’ distraction and seizing the book from him.  
“Oh yes,” Thangonnas said, “Nothing gives you more insight into a female’s mind than their journals. She writes a lot about Lord Glorfindel.”

  
“Glorfindel?” Dalla queried, “Is he not the Elf who was defeated by a Balrog?”  
“Yes, and sent back by the Valar,” Feredir said, “Tuigalen has never met Glorfindel.”  
“You would be fooled into thinking she had, the way she writes,” Thangonnas mumbled. "Sweeping declarations about how never before has there been a face as fair as his, nor will there ever be again."  
“She has a crush,” Dalla said, “Nothing more. It is perfectly normal for young ladies her age.”  
“The detail is disturbing,” said Thangonnas.

  
“Oh, and what of this?” Dalla said, gesturing towards her own diary, “Before I came to the Woodland Realm, I had not been within twelve feet of your father save for the Battle.” Thangonnas’ head tilted slightly, one eyebrow raised, in a way eerily like his father.  
“But you wrote….”  
“My imagination filled in the details my eyes could not,” she explained, “Which is why Tuigalen, no doubt, writes so intimately about Glorfindel. She had learnt much from history, and her mind does the rest.”  
“Our sister should seek a future in fiction and not the garden then,” Thangonnas said. Dalla rolled her eyes.

  
“I shall be telling her to find a new hiding place for her journal when we return this evening,” she said, “Brothers should not be intruding on their sister’s private thoughts like that.”  
“You are right, _thele_ ,” Thangonnas said, “But it is only because I worry about her. She is our father’s first daughter, and there would be those who would seek her for that and not her heart. I would not wish for her to suffer heartache at the hands of an ellon if I could stop it.”

  
“I suppose that is fair, though you may wish to try talking to her instead.”  
“Thangonnas and Tuigalen? Talk?” Feredir muttered, “More like hurl insults at each other until our father feels his head will split open.”  
"Very well, you speak with our sister and guard her honor then," Thangonnas said.  
“I am too busy keeping him out of spiders webs,” Feredir said, nodding towards Legolas.  
“I am perfectly capable...”  
“Enough!” Dalla said, “We still have work to do. Feredir, will you finish up here? I need to sort through my belongings upstairs.”  
“Yes, _thele_ ,” Feredir said. Dalla turned, tucking her book under her arm, lest Thangonnas try to swipe it again.

 

As she stepped out of the study, a whimpering noise drew her attention.  
"Did you hear that?" she asked Legolas, who nodded in response. Walking down the hallway towards the kitchen, the noise grew louder. Turning into it, Dalla was surprised to find part of the door leading out the back of the house had been clawed away, seemingly by a dog. Laying under the old kitchen table was a small pup with dark fur. It looked tiny and malnourished. Looking around, Dalla could see no evidence of the mother or any other pups. They must have moved on and left the runt behind.  
"Oh, you poor thing," she said, setting her book down on the table and kneeling. She lifted the small pup into her arms. It trembled as she wrapped it in her embrace.  
“There now," she said gently, "It's alright, you're safe now." A small tongue peeked out and licked her hand. In the doorway, Legolas looked hesitant to approach, so Dalla smiled.  
“Legolas, would you be so kind as to ask the palace kitchens for some fresh meat and water upon our return? This little one needs some food.”

 

*

 

Dwarves truly were a tiresome race, Thranduil thought as he dismounted Araglar. Not only had he missed eating dinner with his children because of them, but they had also taken Gwend's presence as an insult. He was not as quick to tolerate that as he would their dismissal of his sons. She was his first and greatest love, and without her, he would not be half the King he was today. No, Gwend would always accompany him if he desired it. She would one day see, she was born to be his Queen.

 

He was pleased to see Araglar’s stall was fresh and clean as he handed the reins over to Beinion, the groom who oversaw the war Elk’s care. A stark difference to the sight that had greeted him that morning. What did not please him was the lack of any of his children to greet him. Not even Legolas.

 

 

  
"Now, where do you suppose they have gotten to?" he murmured aloud as Gwend approached, her own mare already devouring her hay.  
“Something exciting has no doubt diverted their attention,” she said, “We should go see, and hope it lightens your mood.”  
"I will apologize once again for Dain's obtuse behavior, _meleth nin_ ,” he replied, taking her hand, “He...”

  
“He does not understand,” Gwend said, “There are few who do, who can understand why a King who is wed would have want or need for a harem of ladies at his beck and call. They see us as little more than well-kept whores. But it does not matter, my love, for we know what we truly are, a family.”

  
“You always know how to lift my spirits,” he said softly, leaning in and kissing her. A gentle swipe of his tongue against her mouth had her hands fisting in his clothing.  
“Tonight, I think….”  
“You have not paid Inariel a visit recently,” Gwend cut him off, “And I know there is a beast inside longing to be let free. Visit her, assure her she still has your heart as much as any of us do.”

 

"Very well," he said, "Though if you feel so inclined to join us?"  
“But of course, my King,” she smiled sweetly, “Come, your children await you.” Thranduil took her hand in his and led the way inside.

 

A quick word with a passing maid told him that his children were all in the dining room. Heading there, he heard Dalla’s voice, speaking loud and clear. A story, he smiled, she was telling a story. As the doors opened, he saw her sat on the floor before his four youngest children, Lothiriel, sat on Ceven's lap, listening intently.  
  


  
“And there before Alfrid and Bard was a great Elven army, who had crept up silently in the night,” Dalla said, “Bard stepped forward, wary as to whether they were friend or foe.” Thranduil could not help but scoff at that. Bard had never considered Thranduil an enemy. Dalla shot him a warning look before continuing.  
“And then the brave Elven King rode in on a giant deer,” she said.  
“An Elk,” he said, “Specifically, a War Elk.”  
“Yes,” said Dalla, “Bearing a brave Elven King who kept interrupting the story.”  
“ _Ada_ shhhhh,” said Lothiriel, pressing a small finger to her lips.  
"And behind the King came not one, not two, but three carts filled with food, water, and wine," Dalla said, holding up three fingers, “We were saved! Starvation was held back another day. We shall finish this story tomorrow, I think.” A noise of dismay came from the children.  
“Now, now, it is late,” Thranduil said, stepping forward, “To bed, all of you.”

 

The children clambered to their feet, each one moving forward to press a kiss to their _thele_ Dalla’s cheek before scampering off towards the door.  
“You were telling them of the Battle?” he asked her as Ceven and Mirima left, escorted by Thangonnas and Feredir.  
“Not yet,” Dalla said, “But they found Smaug scary enough.”  
"As they should," he continued, "Dragons should not be taken lightly."  
"I know that well enough," she said. A small noise drew Thranduil's attention to Dalla's feet. A tiny dark ball of fur lay there, which Dalla promptly scooped up as she rose to her feet.  
  


 

 

“What is that?” he asked guardedly.  
“It’s a puppy,” she said, smiling brightly.  
“Yes, I can see it is a pup, why do you have it?”  
“Oh, she was abandoned by her mother in my old house,” Dalla said, “I could not just leave her there.”  
"It is not coming back with us," he said, firmly, "Dogs do not reside in King's homes, they belong outside with the horses." A small growl and a bark made him take half a step back. He narrowed his eyes at the tiny beast who continued to growl from the safety of Dalla's arms.   
  


  
“Please, my King,” Dalla said quietly, “I do not ask for much, please grant me this dispensation, a small companion for me?" She looked up at him, a pretty smile on her face, and he let out a sigh. Curse his weakness for his ladies!  
“Very well, you may keep it,” he said, “But it is to remain in the common room when I visit you.”  
“Of course, my King,” she said, her smile spreading, “You will not even know she is there, I swear it.”

  
"Good," he said, before allowing his face to soften, "Are you feeling better today _h_ _orta_ _l_ _ë_ _el_ _e_ _n_? I had intended to return sooner."

 

"Much better, and your sons proved a great help with clearing my father's property," she said, stepping closer. "I am afraid I could not bear to leave some things behind, I have two extra trunks to bring back home with us." Thranduil's heart skipped a beat when she said 'home’ though he kept his face calm.

  
"Of course, all your belongings should come home with you," he said. Dalla smiled again, her delicate fingers scratching the pup behind the ears.  
“Thank you, my King,” she said, rising up and kissing his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her fully when she pulled back. She sighed into it.  
“My King...” she whispered.  
“Not this night,” he sighed, sensing her arousal, “I have another lady who needs attending to. But soon, I promise.”  
“See that you keep it,” she replied before stepping around him.

 

He watched her walk away, admiring the alluring sway of her hips as she did. He smirked when he saw Gwend too watching her.  
"Oh, she has you well and truly under her spell, my love," the elleth said, turning back to face him.  
“You all do,” he replied, “Now, I think I must pay a visit to Inariel, and have her renew our love.” He pressed a kiss to Gwend’s cheek as he passed.

 

*

 

Arriving at Inariel’s door, he thought about the past few days. He had not even seen Inariel since dinner the night before. In truth, he was not surprised. Her fiery temper often left her seething in anger that took a long time to cool. She was no doubt still angry of his apparent lack of action with Sirveleg, but he was prepared to do whatever it took to make her happy. A single knock was all it took for her to answer.

 

She was dressed for bed, her tiredness evident on her face. She had not slept deeply since they had left the Woodland Realm.  
“Forgive me,” he said softly, “For all my transgressions.”  
“There is nothing to forgive, my King," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him into the room. "I know that Sirveleg must be treated differently as he is not your son by blood."

 

"Let us not talk of this," he said, "I have missed your fire, _meleth nin_ , will you let me feel it?” He kissed her, feeling her melt into him as he deepened it. He slid one hand up her side to her breast, hearing her whimper before tearing her mouth from his. He tried to follow her to kiss her once more.  
“My King,” she whispered, “I am afraid I have a request.”  
“Anything,” he murmured.  
“I do not wish to return to your Halls.”


End file.
